y^^-7  c> 


*o 


ROMANCE  DUST 


FROM 


THE    HISTORIC   PLACER. 


BY 


WILLIAM   STARBUCK   MAYO,  M.  D. 

AUTHOR    OF    "  KALOOLAH,"    "  THE    BERBER,"    "  ILLUSTRATIONS    OF 
NATURAL    PHILOSOPHY,"  &c.   &c.  &c. 


NEW-YORK: 
GEO.    P.    PUTNAM,     155     BROADWAY. 

LONDON : 
RICHARD    EENTLEY,    NEW     BURLINGTON-STREET. 

1851. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1851,  by 
WILLIAM  STAKBUCK  MAYO,  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New- York. 


Stereotyped  and  Printed 

BY   D.   FANSHAW, 

35  Ann,  corner  of  Nassau-st. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 
PREFACE, 5 

DON   SEBASTIAN  ;   FROM  THE    CHRONICLES    OF  PORTUGAL,  9 

THE    CAPTAIN'S    STORY,          ......  34 

WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE,  OR   BRADDOCK'S    DEFEAT,  .       55 

A    LEGEND    OF    THE    CAPE    DE    VERDES,       .        .        .        .        .  "      78 

A    REAL    PIRATE,           .......  87 

THE    ASTONISHING   ADVENTURE    OF    JAMES    BOTELLO,           .  105 

DRAGUT,    THE    CORSAIR .        .  .129 

THE    PIOUS   CONSTANCY    OF    INEZ    DE    MENCIA    MONT-ROY,  190 

APPENDIX, .'...,.  271 


•  *• 

LO 


PREFACE. 


"  Eomance  Dust  from  the  Historic  Placer !  A  far 
fetched  title  !" 

True,  it  was  brought,  after  many  excursions  of 
fancy  round  the  world,  and  round  the  world  in 
search  of  a  name  that  would  exactly  hit  every  read 
er's  taste,  from  no  less  distant  a  land  than  the  new 
El  Dorado.  If  you  knew  how  difficult  it  is  some 
times  to  find  an  expressive  and  original  title  for 
a  book  of  this  kind — a  book  which  does  not 
necessarily  suggest  a  title  from  itself — you  would 
not  object  to  the  distance.  Picking  up  perfectly 
fitting  and  taking  titles,  is  about  as  easy  as  picking 
up  gold  purses  and  diamond  rings  from  the  pave 
ments  -  of  New-York  or  London :  such  things  do 
exist,  but  fifty  chances  to  one,  you  will  find  some 
sharp-eyed  or  quick-fancied  fellow  is  before-hand 


O  PREFACE. 

with  you,  and  has  them  snugly  stowed  away  in  his 
pockets  or  pages. 

But.  perhaps,  it  is  not  the  distance  from  which  my 
unlucky  specimen  comes,  that  you  object  to !  No ;  it  is 
not  so  much  that,  but  "you  don't  like  to  see  an  au 
thor  rush  across  the  Isthmus  of  propriety,  in  his 
agony  to  avoid  the  Atlantic  of  common  place,  and 
plunging  into  the  Pacific  of  novelty,  bring  up  some 
miserable  metaphorical  nondescript,  instead  of  a  pearl 
of  purity  and  price."  Certainly  not,  but  it  must  be  re 
collected — still  sticking  to  a  California  figure — that 
the  best  divers  in  the  Gulf  cannot  always  be  sure  of 
their  oysters,  and  that  when  they  find  no  pearls, 
they  content  themselves  with  the  nacre — they  bring 
home  the  shells — and  the  shells  "pay."  Now, 
this  specimen  may  not  be  of  the  clearest  water,  but  I 
am  induced  to  think,  that  upon  opening  the  following 
pages,  you  will  open  the  metaphor,  and  find,  if  not  a 
true  pearl,  at  least  mother  o'  pearl  enough  for  a 
very  decent  handle  to  the  book. 

So  much  for  the  name,  about  which  I  should  have 
said  nothing,  had  I  not  received  an  intimation  from 
a  most  distinguished  literary  authority,  that  my  title 


PREFAC 


smacked  of  affectation,  and  was  therefore  not  in  the 
best  taste.  Unluckily,  it  was  already  printed  in 
the  running  head  to  the  pages,  and  could  not  be 
changed. 

Two  or  three  of  the  shorter  articles  were  prepar 
ed  long  ago ;  the  others  have  been  recently  written, 
partly  to  use  up  a  portion  of  the  historical  mate 
rials  left  over  from  Kaloolah  and  The  Berber;  partly 
as  a  diversion  to  more  serious  labor,  and  partly 
to  keep  afloat  in  the  ocean  of  print  until  such 
time  as  a  bark  of  more  pretension  is  ready  to  be 
launched. 


DON    SEBASTIAN, 

A   TALE   FROM  THE    CHRONICLES   OF   PORTUGAL 


CHAPTEE  I. 

"  Gallant  and  gay  in  Lisbon's  bay,  with  streamers  flaunting  wide, 

"  Upon  the  gleaming  waters,  Sebastian's  galleys  ride, 

"'His  valorous  armada,  (was  never  nobler  sight !) 

"  Hath  young  Sebastian  marshalled  against  the  Moorish  might." 

In  the  year  1125  the  Moorish  dominion  in  Portugal 
received  its  death-blow  from  the  hands  of  Alphonso  I.  in 
the  bloody  field  of  Ourique.  The  Moors,  however,  con 
tinued  the  desperate  struggle  for  many  years,  until,  in  the 
time  of  Alphonso  III.  they  were  expelled  from  their  last 
strongholds  in  the  province  of  Algarve,  and  the  kingdom, 
following  the  example  of  its  neighbor  Spain,  was  purged 
from  the  presence  of  the  infidel,  and  restored  to  Christian 
rule.  The  expulsion  of  the  Moors,  however,  by  no  means 
lessened  the  enmities,  or  closed  the  contests  between  the 
followers  of  the  crescent  and  the  cross  ;  and  the  chronicles 
of  two  centuries  of  unceasing  warfare  by  land  and  sea, 

attest  on  every  page  the  intensity  of  their  mutual  hate.  The 

1* 


10  KOMANCE     DUST. 

«  *   «  <•»•<  c° «•*"•!      c,  A 
Moors,  d-'iven  from  Portugal,  found  a  home  with  their 

brethren  of  Morocco.  Sympathy  with  their  sufferings 
added  fuel  to  the  fire  which,  from  the  time  of  Gebel  Tarak 
had  been  blazing  in  their  breasts,  and  a  degree  of  religious 
and  national  animosity  was  aroused,  more  intense  than  was 
ever  felt  by  the  earlier  Saracens,  and  which  has  descended 
in  all  its  bitterness,  even  to  the  present  day 

Such  were  the  relations  of  the  two  countries  when,  in 
the  year  1556,  died  John  III.  leaving  his  grandson,  Don 
Sebastian,  a  child  three  years  old,  heir  to  the  throne.  By 
the  King's  will,  the  Queen  mother  was  appointed  regent 
She,  however,  after  having  by  her  energy  compelled  the 
Moors  to  raise  the  siege  of  Mazagan,  a  Portuguese 
possession  upon  the  coast  of  Morocco,  which  had  been 
invested  by  the  King  of  Fas,  with  eighty  thousand  men, 
resigned  the  regency  into  the  hands  of  the  cardinal  infant, 
Don  Henry.  Under  the  cardinal  the  Jesuits  acquired  un 
bounded  influence.  Don  Alexius  de  Meneses  was  appoint 
ed  the  young  King's  governor,  and  Gonzales  de  Camera, 
with  two  other  priests,  his  preceptors.  By  them  he  was 
early  taught  that  a  reverence  for  the  church,  military 
courage,  and  hatred  of  Mahometans,  were  the  principal 
duties  of  his  station.  As  he  grew  up  he  was  disabused  of 
some  of  his  prejudices  in  favor  of  the  Jesuits,  by  Alcacora, 
his  principal  secretary  of  state,  and  by  the  noble  Don  Al- 
varo  de  Castro ;  but  his  detestation  of  the  Moors  increased 
with  his  growth,  until  it  bore  its  bitter  fruits  in  the  fatal 


DON      SEBASTIAN.  11 

battle  of  AJccassarquivir,  where  perished  the  choicest 
chivalry  of  Portugal  and  Spain,  and  where  was  struck  a 
deadly  blow  at  Portuguese  freedom  and  power. 

Don  Sebastian  having  attained  his  majority,  and  assum 
ed  the  reigns  of  government,  resolved  to  gratify  his  strong 
est  passion,  and,  at  the  same  time,  fulfil  what  he  conceived 
a  sacred  duty,  by  conducting  an  expedition  against  the 
Moors.  It  happened  at  this  time  that  Muley  Hamet,  the 
legitimate  King  of  Morocco,  had  been  dispossessed  of  his 
throne  by  his  uncle  Muley  Molock.  He  applied  to  Don 
Sebastian  for  assistance,  and  as  an  inducement  to  grant 
him  the  aid  he  sought,  he  caused  Azila,  a  town  of  which 
he  was  master,  to  be  given  up  to  the  Portuguese.  Don 
Sebastian  needed  no  encouragement  to  take  advantage  of 
the  opportunity,  and  he  at  once  announced  his  determi 
nation  to  commence  a  war  with  the  Moors.  Philip  II.  of 
Spain,  whose  daughter  had  been  promised  to  Don  Sebas 
tian,  exerted  himself  to  oppose  the  young  King's  reso 
lution  :  he  represented  the  difficulties  and  the  dangers  of 
an  invasion  of  Morocco — the  almost  certainty  of  ultimate 
defeat,  and  the  inutility  even  of  victory.  Finding,  how 
ever,  that  it  was  impossible  to  change  Sebastian's  determi 
nation,  he  engaged  to  assist  him  with  fifty  galleys  and  five 
thousand  men,  and  Francesco  Aldana,  an  old  and  expe 
rienced  officer,  was  despatched  to  Morocco  by  Philip,  to 
gather  information  for  Sebastian. 

Many  of  the  most  influential  men  of  the  Portuguese 


ROMANCE     DUST. 

court  were  strongly  opposed  to  the  expedition.  The 
Queen-dowager  used  the  most  urgent  entreaties,  and  the 
cardinal,  Don  Henry,  strenuously  endeavored  to  dissuade 
the  young  King  from  his  purpose,  but  he  was  alike  deaf  to 
the  warnings  of  his  uncle  and  the  solicitations  of  his 
mother.  The  Emperor,  Muley  Molock,  addressed  him  a 
letter,  deprecating  his  martial  fury  and  religious  zeal,  but 
to  no  effect.  The  preparations  for  the  invasion  were  urg. 
ed  forward  with  renewed  ardor.  All  Portugal  resounded 
with  the  note  of  preparation  for  the  expedition,  and  all 
Europe  was  filled  with  its  fame. 


The  seventeenth  of  June,  1577,  was  a  day  of  unusual 
commotion  and  excitement  in  the  city  of  Lisbon.  It  had 
been  appointed  for  the  consecration  of  the  royal  banner, 
which,  for  the  purpose,  was  to  be  carried  in  grand  pro 
cession  to  the  cathedral  church  of  Noso  Senhora.  At  an 
early  hour,  small  bodies  of  troops  in  gallant  array,  with 
music  sounding,  standards  waving,  and  their  polished 
armor  flashing  in  the  brilliant  sunlight,  commenced  de 
bouching  into  the  beautiful  square,  now  the  Praca  do  Com- 
mercio,  then  the  esplanade  of  the  royal  palace. 

In  the  balconies  of  the  lower  end  of  the  vast  audience 
hall,  which  overlooked  the  square,  stood  a  group  of  gay 
and  gallant  cavaliers,  conspicuous  among  whom  were  the 
graceful  and  chivalric  Duke  of  Aveyro,  and  Don  Diego* 


DON      SEBASTIAN.  13 

and  Don  John,  the  youthful  sons  of  the  Duke  of  Braganza. 
The  appearance  of  the  troops,  the  antics  of  the  populace,  and 
the  crowds  of  mantillas  crowding  the  balconies  and  house 
tops  commanding  a  view  of  the  square,  occupied  the 
attention,  and  afforded  much  amusement  to  the  lounging 
nobles,  who  were  awaiting  the  appearance  of  the  King. 

"  For  Dios  !  I  wish  the  Moor  could  catch  a  glimpse  of 
this  scene,"  exclaimed  young  Don  John,  "and  yet  I  should 
be  sorry  if  he  could ;  the  infidel  would  be  frightened  into 
the  Saharah,  and  victory  would  be  bloodless  and  in 
glorious." 

"  It  is  well  that  your  father  heard  not  that  remark," 
replied  Don  Antonio,  Prior  of  Crato — a  grave  and  digni 
fied  noble.  "  Braganza's  sword  has  a  thousand  times  been 
dyed  in  the  blood  of  the  Moor,  but  it  never  found  him  a 
coward.  We  can  add  nothing  to  our  own  valor  by  dis 
paraging  that  of  our  enemies." 

"  I  meant  not  to  say  that  the  infidel  is  a  coward,"  re 
turned  Don  John,  "but  if  he  is  as  brave  as  Sancho,  his 
courage  will  avail  him  naught.  I  feel  that  if  we  can  once 
set  foot  in  El  Garb,  we  shall  smite  him  to  more  purpose 
than  Signor  Samson,  whom  Father  Gonzales  was  telling 
us  about  the  other  day,  did  the  Philistines." 

"Ha!  look!  there  come  the  Germans  with  that  grim 
looking,  old  Colonel  Amberg  at  their  head,"  interposed 
Don  Diego. 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed   Don  John,   "  and  here   come  the 


14  ROMANCE      DUST. 

Italians  with  their  English  commander,  Sir  Thomas 
Stukely.  He's  a  gallant  fellow,  but  I  wish  he  and  all  the 
other  foreigners  had  staid  at  home.  We  want  them  not, 
and  they  will  only  share  our  glory." 

"Nay,  nay!  be  not  so  greedy  of  glory,  my  young 
friend,"  replied  the  Duke  of  Areyro.  "There  is  no  danger 
that  the  swords  of  our  allies  will  not  leave  Moors  enough 
for  your  weapon." 

"  How  many  do  the  foreigners  number  1  inquired  the 
Prior  of  Crato  of  the  Duke. 

"  The  Prince  of  Orange  furnishes  a  corps  of  three  thou 
sand  Germans ;  and  an  efficient  body  they  are.  The  King 
of  Spain  sends  Alonzo  Aquilar  with  two  thousand  Cas- 
tilians,  the  very  flower  of  chivalry.  Five  hundred  volun 
teers  have  ranged  themselves  under  the  banner  of  Don 
Christopher  Tavora.  We  might  have  given  them  an  abler 
leader,  although  not  a  braver.  These  are  a,ll  except  the 
seven  hundred  Italians  Stukely  has  contrived  to  collect. 
They  are  regular  dare-devils,  who  would  follow  their 
leader  to  the  infernal  regions,  and  he  is  just  the  one  to  go 
if  he  only  knew  the  way,  and  thought  he  could  find  any 
booty.  But  who  can  this  be  ?"  exclaimed  the  Duke,  di 
recting  the  attention  of  his  companions  to  a  cavalier,  who, 
with  a  small  retinue  was  approaching  the  palace. 

"  He  looks  like  the  Spaniard  Aldana.  It  must  be  him ; 
now  we  shall  hear  some  news  from  Morocco." 

The  stranger  dismounted  at  the  gate  of  the  palace, 


DON     SEBASTIAN.  15 

passed  the  guard  with  the  usual  formalities,  and  was 
ushered  into  the  hall. 

"  Welcome !  Francesco  Aldana !"  burst  from  a  dozen 
voices  as  he  entered,  and  the  impatient  and  curious  nobles 
thronged  around  him  to  congratulate  him  upon  his  return 
from  Africa,  whither  it  was  known  that  he  had  been  des 
patched  by  the  king  of  Spain.  Before,  however,  he  could 
reply  to  their  numerous  questions,  the  approach  of  the 
King  was  announced. 

The  doors  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  was  thrown 
open,  and  Don  Sebastian,  attended  by  the  cardinal  Don 
Henry,  entered  the  room.  His  appearance  was  majestic 
in  the  extreme.  Far  above  the  common  size,  he  was 
well  proportioned  and  graceful ;  his  features  were  finely 
formed,  his  eyes  blue,  and  the  expression  of  his  face 
pleasing  and  dignified.  Possessing  prodigious  personal 
strength,  he  excelled  in  all  military  and  gymnastic  exer 
cises,  and  despite  the  faults  of  his  education,  he  had 
many  virtues  which  eminently  fitted  him  for  the  throne. 
The  chroniclers  of  his  time  describe  him  as  "  incapable  of 
fear,  magnificent,  generous,  affable,  full  of  justice,  piety, 
and  truth." 

Advancing  into  the  centre  of  the  hall,  the  King  and  the 
cardinal  seemed  wholly  absorbed  in  the  subject  of  their 
conversation,  which,  from  the  deep  frown  upon  the  King's 
brow,  it  was  evident  was  far  from  being  pleasing  to  him. 
Breaking  away  at  length  with  a  gesture  of  angry  impa- 


16  ROMANCE     DUST. 

tience,  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  that  startled  the  assembled 
nobles — 

"  No  !  For  Dios,  no  !  I  tell  thee,  most  noble  uncle  and 
holy  father ;  another  week  will  see  my  departure  from  the 
Tagus.  Ha  !  Francesco  Aldana,  my  old  and  gallant  sol 
dier,  right  welcome.  Whence  come  you  now  ?  You  are 
from  Morocco,  I  suppose." 

"  I  have  this  moment  arrived  from  Madrid,"  replied 
Aldana,  "  to  which  city  I  returned  three  days  since,  from 
the  mission  to  Africa,  of  which  your  majesty  has  been 
apprized." 

"  Well,  what  news  of  the  Paynim  hounds  ?  What 
think  they  of  our  purpose  ?  I  warrant  they  hold  it  not  so 
lightly  as  some  of  our  ease-loving  subjects." 

".  The  news  I  bring,  I  am  sorry  to  inform  your  ma 
jesty,  is  not  so  favorable  as  I  could  wish,  but  it  was  deem 
ed  of  so  much  importance  by  my  royal  master,  that  he 
ordered  me  to  bring  it  myself  with  all  despatch.  The  real 
object  of  my  visit  was  suspected,  and  I  was  debarred  from 
many  opportunities  of  personal  observation,  but  by  corres 
pondence  with  the  Spanish  priests,  who  are  allowed  to 
reside  in  Africa,  I  obtained  all  necessary  information.  The 
most  active  preparations  have  been  made  to  resist  your 
invasion.  Muley  Molock  has  raised  a  force  of  sixty  thou 
sand  horse,  and  forty  thousand  foot,  and  the  garrisons  of 
all  the  towns  have  been  strengthened.  The  King,  my  mas 
ter,  has  directed  me  to  inform  your  majesty  of  these  facts, 


DON    SEBASTIAN.  17 

and  to  explain  that  the  nature  of  the  country  is  a  still 
more  formidable  obstacle  to  military  operations.  He 
orders  me  to  beg  that  your  majesty  will  listen  to  the 
opinion  of  one  who,  however  unworthy  of  the  honor,  has 
been  styled  by  his  most  gracious  master,  his  most  ex 
perienced  soldier." 

" Now,  Por  todos  los  Santos"  interrupted  the  King,  " it 
would  seem  there  has  been  formed  a  right  pretty  league  to 
interrupt  my  purpose.  First,  there  is  my  good  mother 
with  her  womanly  alarms,  daily  endeavoring  to  dissuade 
me,  then  here  is  my  most  noble  uncle,  the  cardinal,  and 
thirdly,  my  royal  cousin,  and  promised  father-in-law  of 
Spain.  Truly,  a  right  noble  league  ;  but  with  me  it  avails 
not ;  I  falter  not  in  my  determination.  The  difficulties 
and  dangers,  were  they  ten  times  greater,  appal  not  me. 
Why  should  the  Portuguese  of  to-day  be  afraid  to  emulate 
the  exploits  of  their  ancestors,  who  have  written  so  often 
in  the  blood  of  the  Moor,  their  titles  to  immortality'?  Are 
we  not,"  continued  the  King,  his  voice  rising,  and  his 
countenance  kindling  with  excitement,  "  are  we  not,"  he 
exclaimed,  glancing  his  flashing  eye  along  the  line  of 
nobles,  "the  descendants  of  Alphonzo,  and  Sancho,  and 
Alonzo,  and  Briganza,  Coutigno,  and  Narvarra,  and  their 
glorious  compeers,  who  rescued  this  fair  land  from  the 
infidel  dogs,  and  who  planted  the  banners  of  Portugal 
upon  the  battlements  of  Tangier  and  Mazagan,  where  they 
still  triumphantly  float,  mocking  the  efforts  of  the  Moor  1 


18  ROMANCE     DUST. 

What  say  you ;  shall  we  yield  to  the  solicitations  of  our 
cautious  friends,  or  shall  we  fling  abroad  our  standard  to 
the  breeze,  and  sword  in  hand,  strike  one  good  blow  for 
honor  and  the  cross  1  Speak  !"  he  exclaimed,  drawing  his 
sword,  "  speak,  who  joins  me  in  the  cry  of  vengeance  on  the 
Moor!" 

In  an  instant  a  hundred  swords  leaped  from  their 
scabbards  and  flashed  in  the  glittering  sunlight,  and  a 
shout  that  seemed  to  rend  the  palace,  reverberated  through 
the  arches  of  the  lofty  hall.  "  Vengeance  on  the  Moor  ! 
Vengeance  on  the  Moor !"  It  ceased,  but  it  had  already 
passed  the  portals,  and  was  taken  up  by  the  multitudes 
who  crowded  tho  placa,  and  from  a  hundred  thousand 
throats  was  repeated,  "  Morao  os  Mouros  !  Viva  o  Rey  ! 
Morao  os  Mouros  /" 

"  To  horse !  to  horse !  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  the 
King.  "  We  must  not  keep  our  holy  father  of  Guarda 
waiting." 

Attended  by  all  the  officers  of  state,  the  King  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  which  took  up  its 
line  of  march  for  the  church  of  Noso  Senhora,  situated 
opposite  the  vast  and  gloomy  pile  of  the  Inquisition,  form 
ing  one  side  of  the  Praca  Roca. 


DON    SEBASTIAN.  19 


CHAPTER  II. 

There  are  a  thousand  barons,  all  harnessed  cap-a-pee, 
"  With  helm  and  spear  that  glitter  clear,  above  the  dark  green  sea  ; 
"  No  lack  of  gold  and  silver  to  stamp  each  proud  device 
"  On  shield  or  surcoat — nor  of  chains  and  jewelry  of  price." 

We  need  not  describe  the  imposing  ceremonial  of  the 
consecration.  The  royal  standard  having  been  blessed  by 
the  archbishop,  was  presented  to  the  King,  who  instantly 
handed  it  to  Don  Lewis  de  Menesis,  with  orders  for  the 
immediate  embarkation  of  the  troops.  One  week  was  con 
sumed  in  this  operation,  and  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  June, 
the  whole  fleet,  consisting  of  fifty  ships  of  war,  and  five  gal- 
lies,  accompanied  by  transports  and  tenders,  amounting  to 
a  thousand  sail,  weighed  anchor  from  the  Tagus.  Stopping 
at  Cadiz,  the  King  was  royally  entertained  by  the  magnifi 
cent  Duke  Medina  Sidonia,  who,  by  direction  of  the  King 
of  Spain,  made  a  last  effort,  but  without  effect,  to  dissuade 
Don  Sebastian  from  his  purpose.  After  waiting  a  week  at 
Cadiz  for  some  reinforcements,  the  fleet  again  got  under 
way,  the  main  body  with  the  troops,  and  a  train  of  twelve 
pieces  of  cannon,  proceeding,  by  order  of  the  King,  under 
Don  Diego  de  Sousa,  to  Azila,  a  town  upon  the  Atlantic 
coast,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Straits  of 


20  ROMANCE     DUST. 

Gibraltar,  while  the  King  himself,  with  a  detachment  of 
troops,  directed  his  course  to  Tangier.  Here  he  was  joined 
by  the  sherife,  Muley  Hamet,  the  deposed  Emperor  of 
Morocco,  with  a  body  of  three  hundred  horse.  The  sherife 
delivered  up  his  son,  Muley,  a  boy  of  twelve  years  of  age, 
to  the  King,  who  sent  him  as  a  hostage  to  Mazagan.  After 
a  stay  of  three  weeks  in  Tangier,  the  King,  accompanied 
by  Hamet,  joined  his  army  at  Azila,  where  it  was  con 
cluded  in  a  council  of  war  to  reduce  El  Arache,  but 
whether  to  march  thither  by  land,  or  to  embark  the  troops 
and  proceed  by  sea,  led  to  a  long  debate,  which  was  finally 
decided  by  the  King  in  favor  of  the  march  by  land,  and 
orders  were  given  to  advance  directly  to  the  River  Lucos. 
This  measure  was  opposed  by  Muley  Hamet,  but  the 
King  gave  him  so  rude  an  answer,  that  he  left  Sebastian's 
presence  in  discontent.  On  the  twenty-ninth  the  army 
commenced  its  march,  and  encamped  two  leagues  from 
Azila,  where  it  was  joined  by  Aldana,  who  presented  him 
with  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Alva,  begging  him  to 
undertake  nothing  beyond  the  capture  of  El  Arache,  and 
the  recovery  of  a  helmet  formerly  worn  by  Charles  V. 

In  the  meantime  the  Emperor  Molock  had  not  been 
idle.  With  an  army  of  an  hundred  thousand  men  he 
marched  from  Morocco,  and  on  the  third  of  August  he  en 
camped  about  a  league  from  Alcassarquivir,  and  within 
sight  of  the  Christian  troops.  Suspicious  of  the  fidelity  of 
some  of  his  troops,  and  particularly  of  his  officers,  whom 


DON    SEBASTIAN.  21 

he  thought  likely  to  be  bribed  by  Portuguese  gold,  he 
changed  the  disposition  of  his  army,  so  that  none  of  his 
officers  commanded  the  corps  which  had  been  under  their 
orders,  and  having  new  men  to  deal  with,  had,  conse 
quently,  none  whom  they  could  trust.  As  soon  as  the 
scouts  of  the  Moorish  army  were  perceived,  a  council  of 
war  was  convened  in  the  Christian  camp,  in  which  it  was 
decided  to  give  battle  on  the  morrow,  contrary  to  the  ad 
vice  of  Hamet,  who,  learning  that  Muley  Molock  was 
dangerously  ill,  was  confident  that  in  the  event  of  his 
death,  the  greater  part  of  the  Moorish  soldiery  would 
come  over  to  their  legitimate  commander. 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  dawned  upon  a  scene  of 
unusual  splendor.  Rising  from  the  plain  of  Alcassar  were 
the  whitewashed  walls  and  battlements  of  the  town ;  to  the 
east  extended  the  blue  ridge  of  Atlas  ;  to  the  west  Jebbel 
Subah,  or  Lion's  Mount,  supported  the  snowy  tombs  of 
several  renowned  saints ;  and  separated  by  the  almost  dry 
bed  of  the  river  Lucos,  were  the  opposing  armies. 

On  one  side  a  sea  of  turbaned  heads,  on  the  other,  hel 
mets  and  waving  plumes  and  fluttering  pinions.  Con 
spicuous  above  all,  was  Sebastian,  who,  with  Aldana  by 
his  side,  galloped  throughout  the  field,  he  himself  mar 
shalling  the  lines,  and  attending  to  the  minutest  dispo 
sition  of  his  men,  and  clear  above  the  clash  of  arms,  the 
tramp  of  cavalry,  and  the  hoarse  orders  of  his  officers} 
arose  the  trumpet  tones  of  the  youthful  King.  The  Chris- 


22 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


tians  were  far  inferior  in  number  to  the  Moors,  but  never 
was  Paynim  host  confronted  by  a  more  gallant  force — 
never  was  there  collected  a  greater  proportion  of  veteran 
officers  and  noble  knights. 

At  11  o'clock,  P.  M.  a  general  discharge  of  the  Moor 
ish  artillery  gave  the  signal  for  battle.  In  an  instant  an 
answering  roar  burst  from  the  mouths  of  the  Christian 
cannon. 

"  Charge  !"  shouted  the  impatient  Don,  "  upon  them 
under  cover  of  the  smoke  !  Follow  me  !" 

At  the  head  of  the  volunteers,  the  King  dashed  for 
ward  against  the  centre  of  the  first  Moorish  line.  The  An- 
dalusians  recoiled  before  the  impetuous  valor  of  the 
youthful  Don.  Borne  back  by  the  resistless  shock  of  the 
fierce  nobles  of  which  the  band  of  volunteers  was  wholly 
composed,  they  were,  for  a  few  moments,  completely 
broken  and  scattered,  but  at  length,  by  the  advance  of  the 
renegados,  they  rallied,  and  by  their  superiority  in  num 
bers,  were  enabled  to  stand  their  ground. 

The  fight  became  a  confused  and  desperate  meUe. 

"  God  and  the  king !  death  to  the  infidel !"  shouted  the 
Christians.  "  Allah  il  Allah !  down  with  the  kaffirs  /" 
answered  the  Moors.  Swords  and  cimetars  rose  and  fell, 
adding  their  ringing  clash  to  the  tumult  of  the  strife. 

Aldana,  Gonzalez,  Chacon,  and  Alonzo  Aquila,  all  Cas- 
tilians,  were  stricken  down  by  the  King's  side.  In  a  mo 
ment  he  himself  was  brought  to  the  ground  by  the  fall  of 


DON    SEBASTIAN.  33 

his  horse.  George  Albuquerque  gallopped  up,  sprang  from 
his  steed,  and  offered  it  to  his  royal  master. 

"  How  goes  it  ?"  demanded  the  King. 

"  All  is  lost.  Both  the  Moorish  wings  have  taken  us  in 
flank,  and  the  Portuguese  have  given  way.  I  beseech  your 
Majesty  to  fly  while  there  is  yet  time." 

"  Fly  !  never.  Let  us  die  upon  this,"  exclaimed  Don 
Sebastian,  seizing  his  standard,  and  wrapping  its  folds 
around  his  person,  he  spurred  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight. 
Felling  an  infidel  at  every  blow,  he  was  at  last  borne  to 
the  ground  by  the  sheer  force  of  numbers.  At  this  mo 
ment,  at  the  head  of  a  few  nobles,  Louis  de  Britto  made  a 
charge  upon  the  spot  where  last  the  plume  of  the  King  was 
seen  to  wave.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fallen  monarch, 
but  was  unable  to  effect  his  rescue. 

This,  it  was  asserted  by  many,  was  the  last  time  he 
was  ever  seen  alive,  but  as  all  attempts  to  verify  his  death 
proved  abortive,  a  very  general  opinion  obtained  that  he 
had  escaped  with  his  life,  and  events  sometime  after  oc 
curred  to  justify  the  popular  belief. 


24  ROMANCE    DUST. 


CHAPTER  III. 


"  I  stood  in  Venice  on  the  bridge  of  Sighs 
"  A  palace  and  a  prison  on  each  hand." 


A  few  words  will  suffice  for  a  period  of  twenty  years, 
which  we  must  now  suppose  to  have  elapsed  since  the  date 
of  the  events  related  in  the  preceding  chapters. 

A  woful  day  in  Portugal  was  that  in  which  the  tidings 
of  the  battle  of  Alcassarquivir  were  received.  There  was 
not  a  noble  family  in  the  kingdom  which  had  not  its  repre 
sentative  in  the  fatal  fight.  The  flower  of  her  chivalry  des 
troyed,  and  the  resources  of  the  kingdom  exhausted,  her  po 
litical  independence  received  its  death-blow,  and  she  soon 
fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  insatiable  ambition  of  her  rival, 
Spain. 

The  Cardinal  Don  Henry  succeeded  to  the  throne.  At 
his  death,  after  a  short  reign  of  two  years,  Philip  II.  of 
Spain,  laid  a  claim  to  the  crown,  which  he  succeeded  in 
enforcing,  and  Portugal  was  annexed  to  his  dominions. 

A  mission  was  despatched  by  Philip  to  Morocco,  to  ne 
gotiate  for  the  ransom  of  the  prisoners.  Captain  Zuniga 
was  the  minister  appointed,  who  succeeded  in  making  a 


DON      SEBASTIAN.  25 

treaty  of  alliance,  and  in  liberating  without  ransom,  the 
Duke  of  Barcelos,  and  the  Spanish  ambassador.  The  sup 
posed  body  of  Don  Sebastian  was  likewise  given  up.  It 
was  taken  from  Alcassarquivir,  where  it  had  been  deposited, 
to  Ceuta,  and  from  thence  to  Lisbon,  where  it  was  buried 
with  great  pomp  in  the  royal  vaults,  in  the  monastery  of 
Belem. 

Even  this,  however,  failed  to  satisfy  the  Portuguese  of 
the  death  of  their  beloved  king.  Rumors  were  rife  that  he 
had  been  seen  alive,  and  the  people  lived  in  daily  expecta 
tion  of  his  coming  to  deliver  them  from  the  hated  Castilian 
yoke. 

Induced  by  this  conviction  of  the  public  mind,  the  son 
of  a  tailor,  of  Alcobaza,  undertook  to  personate  the  expect 
ed  Don.  He  had  two  companions,  one  who  represented 
himself  to  be  Don  Christopher  di  Tavora,  the  other,  the 
Bishop  of  Guarda.  They  were  apprehended  and  led  through 
the  streets  of  Lisbon.  The  false  Sebastian  was  sent  to  the 
gallies,  and  the  bishop  was  hanged. 

Not  long  after  this,  a  new  pretender  appeared  in  the 
person  of  Gonzalo  Alvares,  the  son  of  a  mason.  Having 
promised  marriage  to  the  daughter  of  Pedro  Alonzo,  a  rich 
farmer,  whom  he  created  earl  of  Torres  Novas,  he  assem 
bled  a  body  of  eight  hundred  men — considerable  blood  was 
spilt  before  he  was  apprehended.  It  was  clearly  established 
that  he  was  an  impostor,  and  with  his  intended  father-in- 
law  he  was  hanged  and  quartered  at  Lisbon. 

2 


26  ROMANCEDUST. 

Our  story,  as  we  have  said,  now  takes  the  reader  at  one 
step,  not  only  over  a  period  of  twenty  years,  but  transfers 
him  in  imagination  to  a  new  and  distant  scene — a  scene 

"Where  Venice  sat  in  state  throned  on  her  hundred  isles." 

It  was  a  bright  Italian  day,  and  every  living  thing  in 
the  then  chief  commercial  mart  of  the  world,  seemed  to  feel 
its  invigorating  influence.  From  all  sides  arose  the  busy 
hum  of  industry — the  shout — the  laugh — the  song.  A  thou 
sand  barges  were  lading  at  the  warehouse  doors,  their 
precious  cargoes  of  Indian  goods.  Myriads  of  gondolas 
were  skimming  with  graceful  rapidity  the  surface  of  the  nu 
merous  canals,  and  crowds  of  citizens  and  foreigners  of 
every  language,  color  and  costume,  jostled  each  other  on 
the  Rialto,  and  in  the  Piazza  de  San  Marco.  But  some 
thing  in  the  looks — the  gestures  and  the  speech  of  the  as 
sembled  multitude  in  St.  Mark's  betokened  some  unusual 
cause  of  excitement — a  knowledge  of  which  may  perhaps 
be  best  conveyed  in  the  following  dialogue,  which  took  place 
between  a  Portuguese  resident  of  Venice,  and  his  friend 
from  Lisbon,  who  had  just  arrived  : 

"But  hast  thou  heard  the  news'?"  exclaimed  Pedro 
Varro  to  Alonzo  Carrara,  after  the  first  friendly  greetings 
had  been  exchanged,  as  they  stood  beneath  the  arcade  of 
the  Procuratie  Nuona,  a  pile  of  buildings  which  had  just 
been  erected. 

"  News !  no,  what  news  ?    I  heard  the  name  of  Don  Se- 


DONSEBASTIAN.  27 

bastian  lauded  by  fifty  voices  as  I  made  my  way  from  the 
Sestiere  de  Cunareggio.  It  can't  be  that  there  is  any  thing 
new  of  the  defunct  Don." 

"There  is,  and  not  more  marvellous  than  true.  Thy 
journeyings  must  have  been  far,  indeed,  not  to  have  heard 
of  what  has  given  them  more  trouble  at  Madrid  than  the 
haughty  Castilian  would  like  to  own.  That  this  is  no  Gon- 
zalo  Alvares  affair,  my  own  eyes  can  testify.  Come,  step 
aside  from  this  crowd,  and  I  will  tell  thee  the  story." 

"Thou  knowest,"  he  resumed,  "with  what  confidence 
the  people  of  Portugal  have  expected  the  re-appearance  of 
Don  Sebastian.  Well,  at  last  he  has  arrived.  I  have  seen 
him,  I  know  that  it  is  he.  He  came  to  Venice  several  weeks 
since.  The  account  that  he  gives  of  himself  is,  that  he  saved 
his  life  by  hiding  himself  among  the  slain  until  night  had 
veiled  the  field  of  Alcassarquivir.  After  wandering  for  three 
days  with  no  definite  object,  without  food  and  in  momen 
tary  danger  of  detection,  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  aid  a 
Berber  chieftain,  who  was  flying  from  the  Moors,  and  to  se 
cure  his  protection.  He  affirms  that  a  year  after  the  battle, 
he  made  his  way  secretly  by  the  aid  of  his  Berber  friend 
from  Africa  to  Algarve,  that  he  gave  notice  of  his  return  to 
the  king,  Don  Henry,  and  that  the  only  answers  he  receiv 
ed,  were  repeated  attempts  to  assassinate  him,  in  conse 
quence  of  which,  and  being  unwilling  to  disturb  the  peace 
of  the  country,  he  returned  to  his  friends  in  Africa.  You 
doubtless  recollect  a  rumor  in  Lisbon  at  the  time,  that  Don 
Sebastian  had  been  seen  in  Algarve  f 


28  ROM  A  N  C  E      DUST. 

"I  recollect  it  well,"  replied  Carrara,  "and it  may  well 
be  that  the  King  Don  Henry  knew  it  to  be  true.  He  was 
not  one  to  willingly  yield  up  the  crown  and  resume  his  car 
dinal's  hat." 

"  True  !  if,  however,  he  had  known  how  short  a  time  he 
had  to  wear  them,  he  would  not  have  cared  much  for  either," 
replied  Varro,  who  resumed  his  story. 

"  After  living  for  several  years  in  Africa,  passing  from 
place  to  place  in  the  habit  of  a  penitent,  the  king  came  to 
Sicily,  where,  for  a  long  time,  he  led  the  life  of  a  hermit, 
but  at  length  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  go  to  Rome  and  tell  his 
story  to  the  Holy  Father.  On  his  way,  he  was  robbed, 
which,  for  the  time,  diverted  him  from  his  purpose,  and  he 
arrived  in  this  city.  He  was  at  once  recognized  by  several 
of  our  friends.  The  story  spread.  Complaint  was  made 
by  the  Spanish  ambassador  to  the  senate,  and  he  was  or 
dered  to  leave  the  city.  He  went  to  Padua,  but  the  gover 
nor,  fearful  of  Spanish  anger,  drove  him  forth,  when  he  was 
compelled  to  return  to  this  city,  and  was  imprisoned.  He 
underwent  twenty-eight  examinations  before  a  committee 
of  nobles,  in  which  were  elicited  the  facts  which  I  have 
stated,  and  in  which  he  proved  himself  guiltless  of  the 
crimes  which  the  Spaniard  endeavored  to  fasten  upon  him." 

"  And  the  committee,  what  decision  did  it  pronounce  ?" 

"  None,  but  they  showed  no  disposition  to  declare  him 
an  impostor.  The  senate  decided  that  they  would  not  dis 
cuss  the  great  point  whether  he  was  the  real  Don  unless 


DON      SEBASTIAN.  29 

they  were  requested  to  do  so  by  some  prince  or  state  in 
alliance  with  them.  They  were  compelled  to  do  so  by  the 
prince  of  Orange,  who  sent  Don  Christopher  to  make  the 
request.  Yesterday  the  solemn  examination  was  conclud 
ed,  but  with  no  result.  They  dared  not  say  yes,  and  they 
could  not  say  no,  so  they  have  ordered  that  Sebastian  be 
set  at  liberty,  and  that  he  leave  the  city  in  three  days." 

"  The  cowards  !"  exclaimed  Carrara,  "  that  is  throwing 
him  directly  into  the  jaws  of  the  Spaniard." 

"  Hush!"  replied  Varro,  "beware  the  lion  of  St.  Marks. 
To-night  we  meet  to  devise  measures  for  his  escape.  It  is 
proposed  to  send  him  to  Padua,  disguised  as  a  monk.  Meet 
me  an  hour  to  sunset  in  the  Mereciria,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
further  of  our  plans." 

*          *          #          *          #          #          *          * 

Again,  for  the  sake  of  preserving  a  proper  brevity  in 
our  marvellous  but  true  tale,  must  we  beg  the  reader  to 
step  with  us  over  an  interval  of  time  and  space. 

It  was  in  the  heart  of  Castile,  upon  a  projecting,  almost- 
inaccessible  point  of  the  Sierra  D"1  Occa,  that  was  situated 
the  strong  castle  Pirynera,  once  the  habitation  of  a  race  of 
Gothic  chieftains,  it  had  become  the  property  of  the  crown, 
and  was  never  used,  except  occasionally,  as  a  prison  for 
offenders  against  the  state. 

In  one  of  the  deepest  dungeons  of  this  gloomy  fortress, 
upon  a  pallet  of  straw,  reclined  a  dying  prisoner.  Though 
not  yet  fifty  years  of  age,  sorrow  and  toil  had  anticipated 


30 


ROMANCE     D  U  S  T  . 


time's  gentle  footsteps.  The  marks  of  age  were  strongly 
stamped  upon  the  deeply  wrinkled  brow,  the  care-worn, 
haggard  face,  and  in  the  snow-white  hair  and  beard.  Death, 
his  kindest  friend,  was  close  at  hand,  yet  still  from  that 
sunk  eye  and  pallid  cheek,  gleamed  an  expression  of  calm, 
majestic  piety  and  patience,  which  in  all  his  toils  and  trou 
ble  had  ever  been  his  chief  characteristic.  He  gasped  for 
breath,  which  was  painfully  supplied  by  the  damp  air  of 
his  dungeon.  The  cold  drops  stood  upon  his  brow,  he  felt 
the  icy  fingers  of  the  friend  he  had  often  invoked,  around 
his  throbbing  heart. 

"  Can  I  do  aught  for  thee  T  inquired  a  rough  but  kindly 
spoken  man,  who  stood  beside  the  prisoner. 

"  Nothing,  Pereco,  but  the  priest,  I  would  fain  see  the 
priest  once  more." 

"  I  will  seek  him,"  replied  the  man  he  addressed,  who 
was  evidently  a  novice  in  the  indurating  profession  of  jailor. 

Leaving  the  gloomy  cell,  which  was  dimly  illuminated 
by  the  feeble  rays  of  a  single  lamp,  he  ascended  by  a  nar 
row  winding  stone  staircase  to  the  region  of  light  and  day. 

"  How  is  the  prisoner?"  demanded  a  hard  featured  grim 
looking  man — the  governor  of  the  castle  and  commander 
of  the  dozen  soldiers,  to  whose  care  it  was  entrusted. 

"  How  is  the  prisoner — I  hope  he  is  no  better,"  he  ex 
claimed  in  an  anxious  tone  to  a  subordinate. 

"He  is  dying,"  replied  Pereco.  "He  wishes  the  pre 
sence  of  Father  Anselmo." 


DON      SEBASTIAN.  31 

"  Dying !  well,  that's  good  news,  there  is  some  hope  of 
being  relieved  from  this  cursed  post.  The  news  will  be 
worth  a  captaincy,  at  least,  at  Madrid,  and  you  perhaps, 
Pereco,  will  come  in  for  a  share  in  the  good  luck.  Who 
knows,  if  they  give  me  a  regiment,  you  may  get  a  troop  ?" 

"  But  how  can  the  death  of  the  prisoner  benefit  us,  and 
to  whom  will  it  be  so  much  pleasure  at  Madrid  ?" 

"Hark  thee,  Pereco,  thou  hast  been  a  good  fellow,  and 
obedient,  can  I  trust  thee  with  a  secret  ?" 

The  lieutenant  made  the  usual  protestations. 

"  Well,  then,  come  this  way  beyond  the  ears  of  the  lazy 
scoundrels  in  the  guard  room.  Dost  thou  know  who  our 
prisoner  is?" 

A  shake  of  the  head  was  the  only  reply  of  the  wonder 
ing  Pereco. 

"  Well,  nor  I,  but  I  can  guess.  Hast  thou  no  suspicions  ?" 

"None.  Thou  forgettest  that  he  came  here  before  I 
joined  you.  I  always  supposed  that  he  is  what  he  is  repre 
sented  to  be,  an  impostor — a  pretender  to  some  Portuguese 
title.  Don  something  or  other." 

"  An  impostor !  ay,  he  may  be,  but  why  not  try  him 
and  hang  him.  They  did  not  think  him  an  impostor  in 
Venice,  and  my  life  in  it,  they  do  not  think  him  so  at  Ma 
drid.  Why  need  the  King,  our  master,  trouble  himself 
about  a  mere  Portuguese  impostor?  The  Venitians  were 
compelled  to  turn  him  out  from  their  city.  He  went  to  Pa 
dua.  The  governor  of  Padua  was  compelled  a  second  time 


32  ROMANCE      DUST. 

to  drive  him  forth.  He  escaped  to  Tuscany.  The  duke 
was  compelled  to  deliver  him  up  to  our  viceroy  at  Naples, 
and  three  long  years  imprisonment  in  the  Castle  del  Ovo 
was  enough  to  expiate  any  ordinary  imposition.  But  no, 
his  crime  was  that  he  wouldn't  die,  so  they  thought  they 
would  work  him  to  death  in  the  galleys;  but  in  time,  they 
found,  his  sufferings  excited  too  much  the  sympathies  of  his 
fellow  prisoners,  and  he  was  ordered  to  be  buried  alive  up 
here  in  this  old  forgotten,  delapidated  crow's  nest.  Think- 
est  thou  that  a  common  prisoner  would  have  been  thus 
treated !  Thinkest  thou  that  a  mere  impostor  would  have 
been  cared  for  with  so  much  trouble?  No,  though  they  tell 
us  so,  he  is  of  more  consequence  than  our  masters  are 
willing  to  admit,  and  his  death  will  lighten  a  heavy  load 
in  the  Escurial."' 

"But  who  do  you  suppose  him  to  be?"  interrupted 
Pereco. 

"Who  !  why  the  king  of  Portugal— the  rightful  owner 
of  the  crown  now  worn  by  his  Most  Catholic  Majesty.  But 
here  comes  Father  Anselmo.  Conduct  him  to  the  prisoner." 

The  priest,  accompanied  by  Pereco,  descended  to  the 
cell  of  the  dying  king.  The  dim  lamp  threw  a  flickering, 
sickly  light  over  the  emaciated  and  prostrate  form  of  the 
unhappy  Don — a  form  once  so  graceful  and  so  stalwart, 

"  Was  never  seen  a  vassal  mien  so  noble  and  so  high," 

— the  pride  of  Lusitanian  halls — the  glory  of  the  lists.     A 


DON     SEBASTIAN.  83 

flash  from  the  flame  of  life  gleamed  fora  moment  from  the 
glazed  eye,  his  lips  moved,  he  essayed  to  speak.  The  priest 
knelt  beside  the  pallet,  and  bowed  his  ear  to  the  mouth  of 
the  dying  monarch.  A  low,  inarticulate  murmur,  in  which 
the  words  "  Don  Sebastian,"  were  alone  audible,  struck 

upon  his  ear.    It  ceased.    The  king  was  dead. 

****** 

Thus  died  the  famous  and  unfortunate  Don — far  away 
from  his  loving  and  expecting  subjects — and  under  circum 
stances  which  have  led  many  to  treat  with  contempt  his 
pretensions  to  the  title.  But  not  with  him  perished  the  po 
pular  belief  in  his  existence.  It  grew  in  strength  from  year 
to  year,  until  it  became  a  settled  point  in  the  national  faith, 
which  has  descended  in  all  its  force  to  the  present  time. 

"  Do  you  expect  the  return  of  Don  Sebastian  ?"  demands 
the  traveller  of  the  passing  peasant. 

"  Sim,  Senhor  Don  Sebastiao  ainda  dde  voltar." 

"  Quando?" 

"  Em  poco  tempo." 


34  ROMANCE     DUST. 


THE   CAPTAIN'S   STORY. 


"  TALKING  of  circumstantial  evidence,  I  can  tell  you  a 
story,  in  point,  of  an  affair  that  happened  within  my  own 
personal  knowledge,  if  you  wish  to  hear  it." 

The  speaker  was  one  of  a  group  that  stood  upon  the 
promenade-deck  of  the  Empire,  one  day  two  or  three 
summers  ago,  as  she  glided  among  the  glories  of  the 
Hudson,  on  her  downward  passage  from  the  political  ca 
pital  of  the  state  to  the  commercial  and  financial  capital 
of  the  Union.  This  group  had  been  collected  by  an  ani 
mated  discussion  between  two  professional-looking  dis 
putants,  respecting  the  necessity  and  propriety  of  killing 
men  as  a  punishment  for  murder.  The  members  of  it 
were  apparently  all  strangers  to  each  other,  and  to  the 
disputants,  one  of  whom,  from  his  appearance  in  general, 
and  his  white  cravat  in  particular,  and  from  his  frequent 
quotations  from  Scripture — his  constant  iteration  of  such 
phrases  as  "divine  vengeance,"  "holy  indignation,"  "God's 
immutable  laws,"  &c.  his  wordy  rhetoric,  false  logic,  and 
bad  temper,  I  took  to  be  of  that  small  class  of  narrow- 


35 

minded  and  short-sighted  religionists  who  are  ever  ready 
to  brand  reform  with  the  reproach  of  infidelity ;  who 
fancy  an  earthquake  endangering  the  foundations  of  God's 
church  in  every  step  of  human  improvement — who  look 
upon  every  discovery  in  science  as  an  attack  upon  Moses 
— every  new  moral  maxim  as  an  insult  to  Solomon — 
every  philanthropic  movement  as  a  contempt  of  our  Sa 
viour  ;  a  class  who  seem  to  think  the  very  drivel  and 
slaver  of  the  pilgrims  essential  to  the  existence  of  the 
shrine ;  and  who,  by  this  sort  of  nasty  conservatism,  do 
more  harm  the  cause  of  religion  than  all  the  infidels 
in  the  world :  more  harm  than  their  liberal  and  enlight 
ened  brethren  of  the  cloth  are  able  to  counteract. 

The  conversation,  at  first  so  spirited  as  to  excite  the 
interest  and  attention  of  a  number  of  ladies,  who  had 
moved  themselves  up  so  as  to  be  within  hearing,  had 
begun  to  flag.  The  arguments  for  and  against  had  been 
pretty  nearly  exhausted,  and  the  combatants  were  be 
ginning,  in  the  lull  of  the  battle,  to  draw  off  their  pole 
mical  cohorts,  preparatory  to  a  peace,  both  parties  satis 
fied  with  the  uti  possidetis,  although  the  spectators  could 
distinguish  no  great  difference  between  it  and  the  statu 
quo  ante  bellum. 

It  was  at  this  opportune  moment  that  the  speaker, 
a  square-built,  red-faced,  comfortable-looking  man,  pro 
posed  to  tell  his  story.  Of  course,  there  was  a  general 
expression  of  assent;  so  clearing  his  throat  with  a  pre- 


36  ROMANCE     DUST. 

paratoiy  "hem,"  and  stowing  his  quid  a  little  more 
compactly,  after  shifting  it  from  starboard  to  larboard, 
he  began  : 

"  I  am  a  sailor,  or  rather  was,  for  it  is  a  good  many 
years  since  I  gave  up  ploughing  the  deep  and  took  to 
turning  furrows  upon  the  land.  Just  forty  years  ago  I 
was  in  command  of  a  little  full-rigged  brig,  called  the 
Moresco,  belonging  to  Baltimore.  We  were  bound  for 
Liverpool,  and  from  there  to  the  Cape  de  Verds,  for  a 
cargo  of  salt,  and  thence  home.  My  crew  consisted  of 
three  men  and  a  boy — rather  short  handed  you  may 
think  for  a  long  voyage ;  but  sailors  were  in  demand, 
and  my  vessel  was  a  little  bit  of  a  thing,  and  required 
but  few  to  manage  her ;  besides,  I  was  young  then,  and 
felt  myself  about  equal  to  the  watch  of  a  small  frigate 
alone ;  and  in  addition  there  was  the  mate,  who  had  come 
on  board  of  me  with  the  reputation  of  being  as  active  an 
officer  as  ever  stepped  across  a  ship's  gangway.  Mr. 
Clark — James  C.  Clark,  I  think,  was  his  name — was  a 
young  man  about  thirty,  but  he  had  been  to  sea  pretty 
much  all  his  life.  Report  said,  for  I  didn't  know  much 
of  him  personally,  that  he  was  a  good  sailor,  but  a  regu 
lar  marine  Tartar;  a  thorough-going  disciple  of  the  'Hell- 
afloat  system.' " 

Here  there  was  a  movement  of  increased  interest,  es 
pecially  among  the  ladies  ;  and  one  of  the  gentlemen  em 
bodying  the  curiosity  of  the  auditors,  demanded  of  the 


37 

captain  an  explanation  of  the  principles  of  the  system  he 
had  mentioned. 

"  It  is  a  system,"  replied  the  captain,  "  much  in  vogue 
formerly,  and  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  has  not  been  en 
tirely  done  away  with  to  this  day.  It  is  a  system,  the 
fundamental  principle  of  which  is,  that  a  sailor — I  mean  a 
regular  "fore-the  mast'  duff-eater,  a  real  'Jack-nasty  face' 
— is  the  incarnation  of  human  depravity ;  that,  as  the 
phrase  is,  /  the  better  you  try  to  serve  him,  the  worse  he 
tries  to  serve  you ;'  and  that  it  is  necessary  to  continually 
work  him,  and  curse  him,  and  flog  him,  to  make  him 
earn  the  salt-junk  and  rusty  pork  upon  which  he  is  half- 
starved." 

"  But,  surely,"  exclaimed  another  of  the  listening 
group,  "  such  a  system  can  find  no  advocate  in  the  Ame 
rican  service  in  the  present  day  ?" 

The  captain  turned  to  the  speaker,  and  deliberately 
eyed  him  with  a  peculiarly  benign  expression,  rendered 
somewhat  quizzical  by  a  slight  pursing  of  the  lips. 

"  You  believe,"  at  last  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  in  the 
progress  of  humanity  ;  in  the  march  of  mind  ;  in  the  de 
velopment  of  the  genius  of  American  civilization — don't 
you  1  Well,  it  is  a  comfortable  belief;  but  if  you  want 
to  keep  it,  never  go  to  sea  before  the  mast :  if  you  do,  ten 
chances  to  one  you  will  have  it  knocked  out  of  you  with  a 
marling-spike  or  a  belaying-pin,  as  soon  as  your  officers 
get  you  into  blue  water.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it ;  but  I  have 


38  ROMANCE     DUST. 

seen  things  at  sea  that,  if  told  on  shore,  would  make  even 
the  judges  of  the  Marine  Court  stare ;  and  I  have  pretty 
good  reason  to  know  that  Jack  has,  to  this  day,  occasional 
opportunities  of  seeing  some  of  the  '  Devil's  doings '  when 
he  $an't  help  it.  But  I'm  going  rather  '  large :'  so  you  see, 
I'll  just  board  my  jawing-tacks,  and  brace  sharp  up  to 
my  story. 

"  This  Mr.  Clark,  as  I  was  mentioning,  had  the  reputa 
tion  of  being  a  good  sailor  and  an  active  officer ;  but  it 
was  said  that  he  never  could  get  a  crew  to  sail  with  him 
the  second  time,  and  that  more  than  once  he  had  to  secrete 
himself  while  his  ship  was  in  port,  and  join  her  only  at 
the  last  moment,  in  order  to  avoid  arrest  at  the  complaint 
of  some  of  his  misused  men.  But  so  far  from  this  being 
against  him,  there  were  not  a  few  old  sea  dogs  who  really 
thought  that  it  was  in  his  favor ;  and  even  I,  at  that  time, 
had  no  very  clear  idea  of  the  distinction  between  a  good 
officer  and  a  hard  one.  Glad,  at  any  rate,  was  I  when  Mr. 
Clark  joined  the  brig,  and  commenced  helping  to  stow  the 
cargo.  I  soon  found  that  report  had  not  belied  his  charac 
ter,  and  that  he  was  a  thorough  driving  fellow,  who  knew 
what  work  meant,  and  how  to  have  it  done.  He  was  evi 
dently  disposed  to  severity,  with  cartmen,  stevedores,  and 
others;  but  I  could  perceive  no  evidences  of  capricious- 
ness  or  downright  bad  temper. 

"  In  a  few  days,  owing  mainly  to  his  activity  and  ener 
gy,  the  cargo  was  aboard  and  stowed,  and  the  brig  ready 


THE     0  A  P  T  A  I  N  's     STORY.  39 

for  sea.  Our  crew  consisting,  as  I  have  said,  of  three  men 
and  a  boy,  came  on  board  ;  and  the  wind  shifting  imme 
diately  to  '  free,'  we  '  sheeted-home '  every  thing,  and 
stood  out  to  sea. 

"  We  had  been  out  but  a  very  few  days  when  I  be 
came  convinced  that  Mr.  Clark's  manner  was,  to  the  full, 
as  rough  as  I  had  heard  it  represented.  Hardly  an  order 
came  from  his  lips  unaccompanied  by  an  oath,  or  some  op 
probrious  epithet.  And  but  little  less  liberal  was  he 
in  the  use  of  blows.  Upon  several  occasions  I  remon 
strated  with  him,  but  he  pleaded  so  strongly  in  justifica 
tion,  the  necessity  of  the  case,  that  I  was  compelled  to  let 
him  have  his  way.  It  is  always  a  delicate  thing  for  a 
captain  to  meddle  with  a  mate's  authority  :  discipline  is 
the  main  point,  and  upon  any  disagreement  in  the  cabin  it 
is  sure  to  suffer. 

"  Another  reason  for  my  indisposition  to  interfere  with 
the  exercise  of  Mr.  Clark,  of  his  authority  in  his  own 
way,  was  the  fact  that  his  displays  of  bad  temper  were 
not  wholly  unprovoked.  Had  I  had  Job  himself  for  first 
officer,  sure  I  am  that  his  well-tried  patience  would  hardly 
have  enabled  him  to  resist  the  temptation  of  flourishing  a 
rope's  end,  at  least  a  dozen  times  a  day.  I  was  frequently 
provoked  beyond  all  bounds  by  the  conduct  of  the  men. 

"  For  a  small  crew,  hardly  a  worse  one  could  have 
been  selected.  One  of  the  three  men  was  willing  enough, 
but  he  was  slow  and  stupid.  The  others  were  smart, 


40  R  O  M  A  N  0  E     D  U  S  T . 

active  fellows,  but  real  grumbling,  growling  rascals,  who 
had  made  up  their  minds,  from  the  first,  never  to  lift  a 
hand  or  stir  a  foot  when  they  could  help  it.  They  had 
both  been  in  the  English  service;  and  although  Ameri 
cans,  they  had  acquired  all  the  vices  of  the  English  sailor. 
In  fact,  I  recollect  that  one  of  them  told  me  that  he  had 
made  three  voyages  in  a  Canadian-timber  ship,  where, 
every  time  they .  reefed  topsails,  the  officers  were  com 
pelled  to  chase  the  men  up  the  rigging  with  handspikes. 

"  To  these  two  men,  whose  names  were  the  usual  sai 
lor-hailing  handles,  Jack  and  Bill,  the  mate  had  taken  a 
supreme  dislike,  and  they  to  him.  At  last  things  got  to 
be  so  bad,  that  not  an  order  of  his  did  they  pretend  to 
obey,  unless  it  was  accompanied  with  a  curse  and  a  blow ; 
and  not  unfrequently,  in  the  night,  during  the  mate's 
watch,  when  only  three  persons  were  on  deck,  have  I  been 
aroused  from  sleep  by  the  sound  of  a  rope's  end  on  Bill's 
back,  and  his  yells  of  rage  and  pain. 

"  Well,  in  this  way,  cursing  and  grumbling,  and  flog 
ging,  as  thousands  of  vessels  have  done  since,  we  made 
our  course  across  the  Atlantic.  Had  I  known  as  much 
then  as  I  do  now,  things  would  have  been  different.  I 
would  have  resolutely  set  my  face  against  Mr.  Clark's 
brutal  and  badgering  ways  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the 
other,  I  would  have  triced  up  Mr.  Bill  or  Jack  to  the  rig 
ging  upon  the  first  sufficient  provocation,  given  them  three 
dozen  with  the  cats,  in  regular  man-o'-war  style,  called  the 


T1IECAPTAINS8TORY.  41 

accounts  square,  and  treated  them  mildly  until  they  had 
run  up  another  score,  to  be  wiped  oft*  in  the  same  way. 
They  would  soon  have  understood  how  the  land  lay,  and 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  time  to  luff  up  a 
bit,  and  leave  off  backing  and  filling  round  mutiny  point. 
There  never  was  a  sailor  who  would  not  knock  under  to  a 
due  mixture  of  severity  and  kindness ;  but  this  constant 
hectoring  only  makes  him  feel  bad,  and  disposes  him  to 
run  his  head  against  a  marling-spike  or  a  belay  ing-pin, 
whenever  he  sees  his  tormentor  have  it  in  hand.  How 
ever,  I  was  young  then,  as  I  have  said,  and  didn't  know 
as  much  as  I  do  now. 

"  We  left  Liverpool ;  and  if  it  was  bad  before  we  got 
there,  it  was  much  worse  after  we  left.  Often  and  often  I 
wished  the  voyage  over,  and  that  Clark  and  his  two  bass- 
drums,  as  he  used  to  call  them,  were  paid  off,  and  dis 
charged.  Generally  I  enjoy  the  sea;  it  is  such  a  grand 
place  for  sentiment.  I  like  to  come  on  deck,  and  after 
giving  an  extra  pull  or  two  upon  the  halyards  and  braces, 
to  walk  up  and  down,  and  study  the  ceaseless  play  of  light 
upon  the  curling,  hissing  hills  of  water.  I  love  to  stretch 
myself  upon  the  booby-hatch  or  hen-coop,  and  gaze  up 
into  the  clear  blue  vault  of  heaven,  until  the  stars  show 
themselves  in  the  daylight;  and  you  don't  so  much  as  say 
thankye,  but  look  right  past  them,  up,  up  to  the  pure  sap 
phire,  where  no  sunbeams  are  needed — where  God  lives, 
and  hosts  of  angels  float  in  his  breath  around  his  Eternal 


ROMANCE      DUST. 


Throne.  I  love  to  lean  over  the  taffrail,  and  lower  my 
soul  out  like  a  deep  sea  lead,  down,  down  into  the  fa 
thomless  caves  of  the  ocean  !  1  love  all  this  kind  of 
thing,  and  enjoy  myself  very  much ;  not  that  I  suppose 
that  my  imagination  is  up  to  the  flights  of  many  of  our 
great  American  poets;  or  that  I  can  feel  the  sentiment 
of  the  situation  as  fully  even  as  many  a  seasick  girl  on 
her  first  voyage  ;  but  still  I  love  to  indulge  myself,  as 
far  as  my  slender  gifts  in  the  sentimental  line  will 
permit;  and,  as  I  said,  generally  I  enjoy  myself  at  sea 
very  much.  But  this  voyage  was  an  exception— I  could 
neither  read,  sleep,  nor  think;  and  as  for  anything  like 
a  quiet  communion  with  nature,  it  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion  in  such  a  perfect  marine  pandemonium  as  the 
Moresco. 

"In  three  weeks  we  reached  Mayo,  the  island  to 
which  we  were  bound,  and  anchored  in  the  roadstead. 
While  getting  in  our  cargo  of  salt,  which  took  us  about 
two  weeks,  things  went  on  rather  more  quietly;  but  it 
was  only  a  lull  before  the  storm.  Two  days  out  from 
Mayo,  our  third  man  fell  sick,  and  was  compelled  to 
keep  his  berth.  This  reduced  the  mate's  watch  to  him 
self  and  Bill,  while  my  watch  was  composed  of  Jack 
and  the  boy. 

"  It  was  in  the  mate's  middle  watch,  on  the  fourth 
night  after  we  had  started  for  home,  that  I  was  aroused 
by  the  usual  sounds  of  Mr.  Clark's  voice,  in  tones  of 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    STORY.  43 

high  passion.  I  heard  him  exclaim,  with  an  oath,  Til 
have  your  life,  you  villian !  I'll  murder  you !'  and  then 
followed  a  torrent  of  imprecations.  To  this  some  mut 
tered  reply  was  madej  which,  as  I  was  almost  half  asleep 
at  the  moment,  I  could  not  understand ;  and  then  came 

a  quick,  heavy  tread  of  feet  on  deck.  '  D n  you,' 

exclaimed  the  mate,  '  I'll  cut  your  heart  out.  And  then 
I  heard  a  noise  of  scuffling — a  choking  sound — a  crash 
ing  blow,  and  the  fall  of  a  body  on  deck. 

"  At  this  moment  I  was  sen  sib]  e,  from  the  motion 
of  the  brig,  that  she  was  rapidly  falling  off  from  the 
wind ;  and  fearing  that  she  would  come  round  by  the 
lee  and  be  taken  aback,  I  jumped  from  my  berth,  and 
while  slipping  on  my  clothes,  I  shouted  to  Mr.  Clark 
to  mind  his  helm  ;  but  he  made  no  answer. 

"  I  stopped  only  for  my  trousers  and  pea-jacket,  and 
hurried  up.  As  I  emerged  from  the  companion-way,  I 
heard  a  heavy  splash  in  the  water,  over  the  starboard- 
quarter,  and  I  saw  Mr.  Clark  leaning  over  the  bulwark, 
and  with  one  hand  holding  on  by  the  maintopmast 
breast  backstay. 

"  As  I  stepped  towards  him  he  turned,  and  a  flash 
from  the  binnacle  lamp  lighted  up  his  countenance ;  its 
expression  was  awful — a  look  of  horror  and  fear  was 
rapidly  chasing  from  his  features  the  grin  of  rage  and 
the  flush  of  physical  exertion. 

"  '  Lower  away  the  boat !'  he  suddenly   shouted,  in 


44  ROMANCE    DUST. 

accents  of  the  wildest  agony ;  '  lower  away  the  boat, 
quick,  quick — Bill  has  jumped  overboard  :  save  him,  for 
God's  sake !' 

"'Hold!'  I  exclaimed,  ' belay  that,'  as  Mr.  Clark 
jumped  to  the  taffrail,  and  began  to  cast  off  the  boat- 
falls. 

"  '  Into  the  boat !  quick,  into  the  boat !'  shouted  the 
mate,  in  a  hoarse  and  convulsed  tone. 

"  '  Stop,  Mr.  Clarke,'  said  I,  laying  my  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  drawing  him  back  from  the  taffrail. 
'  What  shall  we  man  the  boat  for  V 

"  '  For  Bill — Bill  is  overboard — he  jumped  over 
board  !' 

"  '  If  Bill  is  overboard,'  interposed  Jack,  in  a  surly 
tone,  '  it's  the  best  place  for  him,  I  guess  :  look  at 
this.'  And  Jack  stretched  out  his  hand  in  the  binna 
cle  light. 

"  'Blood!   how  is  that?' 

"  '  Why,  here  on  deck — and  see,  you  can  feel  it  on 
the  quarter-rail ;  and  here  is  some  hair  mixed  with  it. 

Bill's  hair,  by  G • !'  exclaimed  Jack,  holding  a  lock 

of  bloody  hair  in  the  light  of  the  galley -lantern,  which 
the  old  wooden-legged  black  cook  now  brought  forward. 

"  '  And  see  here,  here  is  his  knife,  all  covered  with 
blood :  I  heard  Clark  ask  him  for  it  not  ten  minutes 
since. 

"  '  Mr.    Clark,'    continued    Jack,    sideling   up   to   the 


45 


mate,  with  a  most  truculent  and  lowering  visage  and 
tone,  '  you'll  swing  for  this,  if  there  is  any  law  in  the 
land.  I  heard  him  cry  murder,  and  I've  heard  you 
threaten  to  take  his  life  more  than  once.' 

"'Man  the  boat!  man  the  boat!'  shrieked  the  mate, 
wringing  his  hands,  and  frantically  grasping  the  boat-falls. 

"  At  this  moment  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps 
the  sailor  might  have  been  merely  wounded;  and  al 
though  the  chance  of  picking  him  up  was  so  small,  it 
was  worth  the  attempt,  if  only  for  the  mate's  sake.  So, 
directing  the  boy  to  hoist  a  lantern  in  the  rigging,  while 
the  old  cook  was  to  mind  the  helm,  and  keep  the  brig 
aback,  the  boat  was  lowered,  and  jumping  into  ifc  with 
Jack  and  the  mate,  I  pushed  off.  With  such  convulsive 
strength  did  Mr.  Clark  bend  his  oar,  that  I  had  to  di 
rect  the  whole  force  of  the  rudder  against  him,  to  keep 
him  from  pulling  Jack  round-and-round.  Stoutly  we 
rowed  out  in  the  blackness  to  leeward,  till  the  light  in 
the  distant  brig  shone  like  a  fixed  star,  so  small  the  pa 
rallax,  or  change  in  the  angle  of  vision,  as  it  rose  and 
fell  upon  the  undulating  sea.  Frequently  we  stopped 
and  listened ;  and  frequently  the  mate's  agonizing  voice 
went  over  the  hissing  waste  of  waters,  but  no  groan  of 
the  dying  came  back  in  reply. 

"  *  There's  not  much  use  in  this  work,'  exclaimed 
Jack. 

"I  knew   that   he   spoke   the   truth;   and   after   two 


46  ROMANCE     DUST. 

hours'  hard  pulling  I  sternly  silenced  Mr.  Clark's  re 
monstrances,  and  ordered  the  boat  back  to  the  brig. 
As  we  mounted  to  the  deck,  the  purplish  light  of  dawn 
streamed  across  the  water.  The  murderer  turned  his 
ghastly  face  towards  me,  and,  in  a  half- inquiring  tone, 
exclaimed,  '  He  jumped  overboard.'  I  looked  him  stea 
dily  in  the  eye  for  a  moment,  and  deliberately  shook 
my  head.  His  lips  became  of  a  bluish- white ;  his  breath 
seemed  to  fail  him  ;  and  staggering  forward,  he  threw 
himself  across  the  companion-hatch  and  sobbed  violently. 
The  stern,  hard  man  was  all  gone. 

"All  day  he  sat  in  the  cabin  upon  the  transom,  with 
his  head  bowed  upon  his  hands.  I  left  him  the  cabin 
pretty  much  to  himself;  but  I  could  not  help,  as  I  walk 
ed  the  deck,  taking  an  occasional  glance  at  him  through 
the  skylight.  In  the  afternoon  he  roused  himself  a  lit 
tle,  took  a  look  out  of  the  cabin-windows,  got  out  his 
desk,  and  wrote  steadily  for  an  hour;  and  superscribing 
several  letters,  directed  one  of  them  in  words,  that,  in 
the  distance,  looked  very  much  like  my  name.  This 
was  suspicious.  I  saw  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  something.  What  was  it  ?  What  could  it  be  but 
suicide.  It  was  clearly  my  duty  to  prevent  this,  or  at 
any  rate  to  give  him  a  longer  time  to  think  about  it ; 
so  just  at  sunset  I  called  Jack  and  the  boy,  and  went 
down  into  the  cabin.  I  at  once  addressed  myself  to  the 
criminal,  told  him  plainly  my  suspicions;  told  him  that 


47 

I  knew  he  intended  to  throw  himself  overboard ;  and 
that  as  I  was  determined  he  should  do  no  such  thing, 
at  least  for  the  present,  I  had  come  to  the  resolution  of 
putting  him  in  irons.  He  started,  appeared  for  the  mo 
ment  somewhat  astonished,  but  readily  submitted  with 
out  saying  a  word. 

"  The  next  morning  we  were  spoken  by  a  brig,  which 
proved  to  be  a  United  States  man-of-war,  five  days  out 
from  Porta  Prayo,  in  the  island  of  St.  Jago,  and  bound 
for  the  Chesapeake.  The  first  lieutenant  came  aboard  of 
us,  and  after  hearing  my  story,  took  me  back  with  him  to 
see  his  captain,  who  decided  at  once  to  transfer  Mr.  Clark 
to  his  vessel,  and  carry  him  home  for  trial.  At  the  same 
time  he  loaned  me  three  active  fellows,  to  supply  his 
place;  without  which  I  could  not  have  got  along  at  all, 
seeing  that  my  third  man  was  likely  to  be,  for  some 
time,  confined  to  his  berth.  When  all  was  arranged,  we 
filled-away,  and  stood  on  in  company — both  being  bound 
for  the  capes  of  the  Chesapeake.  The  man-of-war,  how 
ever,  outsailed  us;  and  it  was  not  until  a  week  after 
her  arrival  that  I  got  in  with  the  Moresco.  In  the  mean 
time  Mr.  Clarke  had  been  handed  over  to  those  who 
had  jurisdiction  on  shore ;  and  as  soon  as  we  arrived, 
all  hands  were  ordered  up  as  witnesses,  and  prepara 
tions  for  his  trial  at  once  commenced.  Somehow  or 
another  they  were  not  so  long  about  such  kind  of  things 
then  as  now.  The  lawyers  were  not  so  expert  in  stav- 


48  ROMANCEDUST. 

ing  off  cases  and  bamboozling  judges ;  and  the  juries 
just  as  leave  hang  a  man  as  look  at  him,  if  he  had  fair 
ly  thrust  his  head  in  the  noose.  There  has  been  a  change 
since  then ;  whether  for  the  better  or  worse,  I  can't  say 
— but  I  suppose  for  the  better.  The  truth  is,  I've  seen 
so  many  changes,  which  in  the  beginning  I  have  been 
a  little  dubious  about,  turn  out  so  well  in  the  end,  that 
Fm  determined  never  to  say  anything  new  is  wrong  again. 
Why,  I've  seen  the  time  when  I've  thought  that  a 
ship  was  no  ship  unless  her  shrouds  were  cat-harpened 
in  as  tightly  as  the  ribs  of  a  Broadway  belle.  I've 
turned  up  my  nose  at  chain-cables,  and  d d  the  lub 
ber's  eyes  who  first  dared  to  lead  the  maintopmast  stay 
anywhere  else  than  to  the  head  of  the  foremast ;  but  if 
I  was  at  anchor  on  rocky  ground,  off  a  lee-shore,  wouldn't 
I  like  to  have  iron  ground-tackle  to  hang  by  ?  or  if  a 
heavy  lurch  whipped  out  my  foremast,  wouldn't  I  be 
glad  that  my  maintopmast  stay  wasn't  fastened  to  the 
head  of  it  ?  No,  no,  the  world  is  not  so  perfect  yet 
that  one  could  wish  it  to  stand  still.  There  are  cat- 
harpens  on  the  shrouds  of  society  that  would  be  well 
to  get  rid  of;  and  there  are  many  improvements  in 
the  mode  of  setting  up  and  rattling  down  the  standing- 
rigging  ;  why,  it  is  only  within  a  short  time  that  it  has 
been  found  that  the  great  national  ark  carries  her  spars 
easier  when  you  slacken  the  stays;  and  that  in  working 
to  windward,  you  must  not  round-in  the  lee  braces  too 


49 

taut,  or  what  you  make  up  in  pointing,  you'll  lose  in 
going  ahead. 

"  Well,  well,"  continued  the  captain  to  his  auditors, 
"  I  see  that  you  think  that  I  am  going  rather  large ;  but 
just  wait  a  minute  till  I  put  my  helm  down,  and  brace 
up  again  once  more,  and  I'll  weather  the  whole  story  in 
half  the  shake  of  a  shark's  tail. 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  go  into  a  long  account  of 
the  trial.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  my  evidence,  light  as 
I  could  make  it,  was  heavy  against  the  prisoner.  I  was 
compelled  to  testify  to  the  bad  blood  between  him  and 
the  dead  man — the  words  and  sounds  I  heard  that  night 
— the  splash  in  the  water — the  attitude  of  Clark  over 
the  bulwark — the  blood  and  hair  found  on  the  deck 
and  rail.  But  if  my  evidence  was  hard,  Jack's  was  still 
harder:  he  swore  that  the  mate  had  told  him,  two  or 
three  times,  that  he,  the  mate,  '  would  have  Bill's  life.' 
He  swore  that,  not  more  than  ten  minutes  before  the 
row,  he  heard  Mr.  Clark  ask  Bill  for  his  sheath-knife; 
that  shortly,  after  he  heard  the  mate  say,  '  D — n  you, 
I'll  murder  you  ;'  that  there  was  scuffling,  and  the  sound 
of  two  or  three  blows,  and  a  cry  of  murder,  to  which 
he  should  have  paid  no  attention,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  low  and  peculiar  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered;  that 
upon  this,  he  sprung  upon  the  deck,  and  saw  the  mate 
in  the  very  act  of  lifting  the  body  over  the  quarter- 
bulwark. 

3 


50  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  The  evidence  of  the  sick  man,  boy,  and  cook,  was 
all,  as  far  as  it  went,  to  the  same  effect :  and  by  the 
time  it  was  all  in,  it  was  all  up  with  Mr.  Clark — he 
didn't  need  a  long  speech  from  the  district  attorney  to 
finish  him ;  without  that,  he  stood  no  more  chance  for 
his  life  than  a  flying-fish  does  among  a  school  of  dol 
phins.  The  jury  brought  him  in  guilty,  after  about 
fifteen  minutes'  deliberation ;  and  next  day  the  judge 
sentenced  him  to  be  hanged." 

"  And  was  he  hanged  ?"  demanded  one  of  the  group 
of  listeners,  as  the  captain  paused  in  his  story. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  captain ;  "  they  put  a  rope 
around  his  neck,  and,  knocking  out  the  platform  from 
beneath  him,  left  him  dancing  the  pirate's  jig  upon 
nothing.  He  kicked  and  struggled  for  a  long  time;  but 
I  suppose  that  made  the  sight  more  instructive — a  great 
er  moral  lesson.  Oh !  he.  was  hanged  by  the  neck  un 
til  he  was  dead ;  for  I  saw  the  body  afterwards." 

"  And  it  served  him  right,"  exclaimed  the  gentleman 
who  had  been  the  advocate  of  capital  punishment  in 
the  recent  dispute — "  served  him  right ;  it  was  a  clear 
case  of  murder." 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  clear  case — a  very  clear  case ;  and 
yet,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  there  was  no  murder 
about  it." 

"  How  so  ?"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices.  "  Do  you 
think  that  he  did  not  mean  to  kill  the  sailor  1" 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    STORY.  51 

"  I  don't  think  at  all ;  I  know.  I .  know  not  only 
that  he  did  not  mean  to  kill  the  man,  but  that  no  man 
was  killed." 

An  expression  of  increased  interest  now  escaped  the 
group,  which  gathered  up  closer  around  the  narrator. 

"  Listen,"  he  continued,  "  and  I'll  just  reel  off  my 
yarn,  and  whip  the  fag-end  of  it  in  half  a  minute. 

"It  was  about  five  years  afterwards  that  I  took  a 
cargo  of  tobacco  to  Gibraltar,  to  supply  the  contraban- 
distas,  who  under  the  broad  and  powerful  shield  of  the 
English  flag,  make  the  Rock  a  depot  for  goods  to  be 
smuggled  into  Spain.  Well,  I  was  ashore  one  day,  at 
tending  the  sale  of  some  goods  at  auction  in  Commer 
cial  Square,  when,  among  the  sailors  who  were  loitering 
about,  I  saw  one  whose  face  struck  me  as  being  very 
familiar,  but  whose  name  I  could  not  recollect.  He 
passed  on;  and  I  should  have  thought  no  more  about 
it,  such  things  being  common  enough,  had  there  not 
been  something  in  the  fellow's  look  that  struck  me  as 
being  very  peculiar,  and  induced  me  to  pause  and  think 
where  I  had -seen  him.  Suddenly  a  recollection  of  the 
Moresco  business  came  over  me  like  a  blaze  of  sheet 
lightning  in  a  dark  night.  '  That's  either  Bill,  Bill's 
twin-brother,  his  ghost,  or  the  devil,'  said  I,  as  I  jumped 
from  a  tobacco  hogshead,  and  almost  knocked  down  the 
American  Consul,  and  fairly  running  over  two  Moors, 
three  Jews,  and  a  jackass,  took  after  the  sailor,  who  was 


52  ROMANCE     DUST. 

still  in  sight.  As  I  came  up  with  him,  he  turned,  and  I 
could  see  at  once  that  he  recognised  me.  He  touched 
his  tarpaulin,  took  my  offered  hand,  and  called  me  by 
name ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  the  identi 
cal  Bill. 

"  '  I  suppose,  captain,'  said  he,  '  that  you  thought 
that  I  had  gone  to  Davy  Jones'  long  ago ;  but  you  see 
I'm  alive  and  flapping.  How  have  you  been  this  long 
time  1  How  is  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Clarke  V 

"  « Mr.  Clark  !'  said  I,  '  Mr.  Clarke  was  hanged  !' 

"  '  Hanged !  the  d — 1 !  why  that's  worse  luck  than 
I  ever  wished  him.  I  only  expected  that  his  watch 
would  pitch  him  overboard  some  dark  night.  But  what 
was  he  hanged  for  V 

"  '  For  murdering  you.' 

"  '  For  murdering  me  !'  exclaimed  Bill,  in  astonish 
ment  ;  and  I  had  to  repeat  the  assertion,  with  an  ac 
count  of  the  whole  affair,  to  convince  him  of  its  truth. 
'  And  now,'  said  I,  '  how  is  it  that  I  see  you  alive  V 

"  We  walked  out  upon  the  bastion,  and  took  a  seat 
upon  the  banquette,  when  Bill  began  his  story;  which 
it  would  be  tiresome  to  tell  in  his  words.  The  amount 
of  it  was,  that  he  had  frequently  threatened  Mr.  Clark 
that  he  would  jump  overboard,  and  that  he  had  nearly 
made  up  his  mind  several  times  to  do  so ;  that  he  came 
on  deck  that  night,  feeling  sore  from  a  recent  flogging, 
and  somewhat  excited  by  drink,  which  he  and  Jack  had 


53 

bribed  the  old  cook  to  steal  from  the  cabin ;  that  for 
some  time  Mr.  Clarke  had  the  helm,  and  that  after  ask 
ing  for  his  knife  and  returning  it  again,  Mr.  Clark  or 
dered  him  to  take  the  wheel ;  to  which  he,  Bill,  replied 
that  it  was  not  his  turn  yet,  and  that  he,  the  mate, 
might  lash  it  or  leave  it,  and  be  d — ned.  Upon  this 
the  row  commenced.  Mr.  Clark  jumped  at  him,  struck 
him  a  blow  in  the  face,  and  knocked  him  down ;  and 
that,  in  falling,  his  knife  came  out  of  the  sheath,  and, 
getting  under  him,  inflicted  a  wound  in  his  side ;  that, 
as  soon  as  he  could  get  upon  his  feet,  maddened  by 
rage,  pain,  and  drink,  and  reckless  of  life,  but  anxious 
to  spite  Mr.  Clark,  he  had  jumped  upon  the  bulwark, 
resolved  to  throw  himself  into  the  sea ;  that  Mr.  Clark 
seized  him,  and  endeavored  to  drag  him  on  board ;  and 
that  it  was  Mr.  Clark's  voice  that  cried  for  help.  With 
a  sudden  effort  Bill  tore  from  the  mate's  grasp,  and 
sank  into  the  water.  In  falling,  he  struck  his  head  in 
the  main  chains,  and  for  a  long  time  was  insensible. 
Upon  coming  to  himself,  the  love  of  life  returned,  and 
induced  him  to  exert  his  powers  as  a  swimmer  to  sus 
tain  himself  upon  the  surface.  He  kept  up  until  just 
at  daylight,  when,  his  strength  being  quite  spent,  he 
saw  a  large  ship  bearing  down  upon  him.  She  came  so 
close  as  to  hear  his  feeble  hail ;  and  lowering  a  boat, 
picked  him  up  and  took  him  on  board,  where  rest  and 
kind  nursing  soon  restored  him  to  strength.  The  wound 


54  ROMANCE     DUST. 

in  his  side  was  slight,  and  healed  up  completely  before 
the  ship  reached  Liverpool.  Since  that  time  Bill  had 
been  knocking  about  the  world  from  various  ports, 
until  at  last  his  luck  had  brought  him  to  Gibraltar ; 
and  there  he  stood  before  me,  a  living  proof  of  the 
fallibility  of  human  testimony,  and  the  danger  of  re 
lying  upon  circumstantial  evidence, 

"  'I  don't  want  to  see  any  more  hanging  matches,' 
said  the  captain,  after  a  pause,  drawing  a  piece  of  ca 
vendish  from  his  pocket,  and  politely  tendering  it  to 
his  auditors,  'I  don't  want  to  see  any  more  great  mo 
ral  lessons  preached  from  the  gallows  or  the  yard-arm.' 
And  twisting  off  a  piece  of  the  dainty  weed,  the  cap 
tain  marched  off,  with  the  conscious  air  that  always 
marks  your  habitual  raconteur,  when  he  thinks  that  he 
has  told  a  story  in  point." 


WASHINGTON'S 


OR 


BRADDOCK'S    DEFEAT. 

"  Ho  !  stranger,  halt !  which  way  so  late  ?" 

Loud  shouts  a  woodman  bold  : 
"  The  day's  short  race  is  nearly  run, 

The  nights  are  dark  and  cold  ; 
The  forest  lies  on  either  hand ; 

The  prairie  rolls  before  ; 
And  strangers  ne'er  do  I  permit 
To  pass  my  cabin-door." 

The  ruddy  fire,  with  cheerful  glow, 

Salutes  the  stranger's  sight, 
And  throws,  in  bright  and  joyous  gleams, 

Around  its  mellow  light, 
On  blackened  walls,  from  which  depend 

The  spoils  of  many  a  chase, 
On  horns,  and  hides,  and  antlers  broad, 

That  beams  and  rafters  grace. 


In  Sparks'  Biography  of  Washington  it  is  stated  that  there  were  living,  a 
few  years  since,  at  least  two  men  who  had  been  in  this  battle. 


56  ROMANCE      DUST. 

On  flesh  of  buffalo  and  bear — 

The  hump — the  sav'ry  tongue — 
The  ven'son  haunch,  and  feathered  game, 

Which  round  the  room  are  hung  ; 
The  well-oiled  rifles  o'er  the  fire, 

Enwrapped  in  doe-skin  case, 
And  'neath  a  Pater  Patrice, 

With  grave,  majestic  face. 

Within  the  chimney's  ample  jaws, 

Which  near  across  one  side, 
Insatiate  with  a  forest's  spoil, 

Yawn  deep,  and  high,  and  wide ; 
There  sits  a  shrunk  and  withered  form, 

A  doting,  white-haired  sire — 
His  palsied  frame  rejoicing  in 

The  warm  and  genial  fire. 

Across  his  knees  a  rifle  rests, 

That  worn,  and  stained,  and  bent, 
And  marked  with  many  a  seamy  scar, 

And  many  a  deep  indent, 
He  fondles,  child-like,  and  the  while, 

With  trembling  hands,  counts  o'er 
A  row  of  notches  on  the  stock, 

Which  number  just  three-score. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  57 

Three- score  in  full  the  notches  count ; 

Again  he  runs  them  o'er, 
Again  he  shakes  his  snowy  head, 

And  murmurs — "  There  were  more." 
Now,  pausing  at  the  stranger's  voice, 

He  lifts  his  dim,  blear  eyes : 
The  words  unmeaning  strike  his  ear — 

He  turns  away,  and  sighs. 


"  The  Chippewah  and  Mingo  fierce, 

The  proud  and  bold  Shennoah, 

The  Rundak,  and  the  Ottawah — 

I'm  sure  that  there  were  more  !" 
The  woodsman  marks  the  furtive  glance 

That  by  his  guest  is  cast : 
"  He's  very  old,"  he  prompt  replies, 
"  His  mind  is  failing  fast. 

"  A  hundred  winters'  snows  and  winds 
Have  bleached  his  hairs  so  white ; 
A  hundred  summers'  lights  and  shades 

Have  dimn'd  his  eagle  sight ; 
Now  bowed,  and  shrunk  with  weight  of  years, 

There's  little  to  recall 
The  ranger  bold,  the  hunter  keen, 
So  lithe,  and  strong,  and  tall. 
3* 


58 


K  OM  ANCE      D  UST. 

"  Ere  Lexington's  far-echoing  guns 

Had  thrilled  each  patriot  heart, 
And  heralded  the  glorious  war 

In  which  he  bore  a  part, 
Amongst  our  French  and  Indian  foes 

He'd  won  a  fear-fraught  name ; 
And  throughout  all  the  border  woods 

That  rifle  shared  his  fame. 

"  Those  notches  marked  upon  the  stock, 

A  fearful  story  tell 
Of  scores  of  ruthless  savage  fiends 

Who  'fore  its  flashes  fell  ; 
Its  sure  and  fatal  bullets  were 

With  death's  own  signet  sealed ; 
While  oft  that  tomahawk  and  knife 
Have  lighted  up  in  foremost  strife 

The  darkest  battle-field. 

"  But  now  adown  his  stirring  life's 

Prolonged,  eventful  track, 
Forgetting  all  his  latter  deeds, 

His  mem'ry  travels  back  ; 
And  as  when  rivulet  we  trace, 

By  springs  pellucid  fed, 
More  pure  and  bright  the  waters  flow 

When  near  the  fountain-head 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  59 

"  So,  as  his  mind  thus  backward  glides, 

Along  life's  flowing  streams, 
The  scenes  of  youth,  most  bright  and  clear, 

Float  through  his  waking  dreams — 
Ohio's  dark  and  bloody  fork  ! 

Otsego's  hill-crowned  shore, 
The  Ca-na-wa-ga's  broad,  pure  stream, 

The  vale  of  Shenandoah." 

While  thus  the  hardy  woodsman  spake, 

His  wife  and  daughters  fair, 
The  hospitable  evening  meal 

With  bustling  haste  prepare  ; 
And  now  from  embers  glowing  red, 

A  sav'ry  steam  ascends, 
That  to  the  toil-won  appetite 

A  keener  vigor  lends. 

Now  deaftly  is  the  groaning  board 

With  food  profusely  spread — 
The  haunch,  the  hump,  the  fat  bear's  steak, 

The  smoking,  hot,  maize  bread. 
While  soon  by  all  around  the  board 

Is  felt  the  satiate  glow  ; 
They  raise  their  heads,  the  tide  of  talk 

Resumes  its  cheerful  flow. 


60  ROMANCE     DUST. 

The  question  free,  the  frank  reply, 

The  scenes  of  western  life, 
The  lucky  shot,  the  desperate  race, 
The  daring  leap,  the  adventurous  chase, 

And  deeds  of  blood  and  strife. 
The  stranger,  too,  has  tales  to  tell 

Of  far  off  eastern  lands, 
To  which  the  good  wife's  heart  is  linked 

By  mem'ry's  golden  bands. 

"  'Tis  where  'Gahela  pours  his  flood," 

To  her  demand  he  cries, 
But  instantly  his  words  are  checked — 

He  turns  with  vague  surprise ; 
.For,  lightly  bounding  to  his  feet, 

That  poor  old  dotard  springs, 
And  crashing  on  the  stony  hearth, 

His  rifle  rudely  rings. 

The  barrel  of  the  battered  piece 

One  hand,  now  steady,  clasps ; 
The  other,  firm  and  nervously 

The  stranger's  shoulder  grasps : 
"  Monongahela  !  dost  thou  say  ? 

Monongahela's  flood ! 
Ah  !  tell  me,  if  it  blushes  still, 

If  still  its  stream  runs  blood !" 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST   BATTLE.  61 

"  Ah,  no !  ah,  no !  I  quite  forget ; — 

'Tis  seventy  years,  and  more, 
Since  by  these  eyes  was  seen  that  sight — 

That  sight  so  sad  and  sore  ; 
And  yet,  it  seems  as  'twere  to-day, 

So  fiercely  on  my  brain 
The  visions  rush  of  that  sad  hour, 

That  wild  and  gory  plain." 

"  I  see  the  proud  and  gaudy  ranks, 

'Gahela  gleaming  bright ; 
I  see  the  march,  the  fight,  the  foe, 
And,  ah  !  that  shameful  flight." 

The  old  man  on  his  rifle  leans, 

His  voice  comes  loud  and  clear ; 
"  List,  list,"  he  cries,  "  while  I  recount 
That  tale  of  blood  and  fear." 
x  #  *  * 

"  Ho  !  news,  great  news !  Provincials  bold, 

Ho !  sound  the  fife  and  drums, 
To  guard  us  from  the  savage  foe, 

The  gallant  Braddock  comes  ! 
Ho  !  news,  great  news,  Provincials  bold ! 

Across  the  ocean  wave, 
Two  regiments  the  king  has  sent, 

Our  hearths  and  homes  to  save ! 


62 


ROMANCE      DUST. 

"  Hurrah !  Provincials,  shout  hurrah ! 

Raise  high  the  bonfire  light ! 
Two  regiments  of  royal  troops, 

To  teach  us  how  to  fight ! 
Denwiddie,  Sherley,  and  old  Sharp, 

Have  planned  the  whole  campaign — 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  we'll  strain  our  throats 

For  captured  Fort  Duquesne ! 

"  Of  full  five  hundred  royal  troops 

Sir  Peter*  rides  the  head  ; 
Another  corps  of  equal  strength 

By  bold  Dunbar  is  led ; 
Meanwhile,  in  garrisons  and  camps, 

And  through  the  country  round, 
Another  full  five  hundred  troops, 

Right  royal  troops,  are  found. 

"  Peyrouny's  rangers  swell  the  train 

With  Poulson's  rifle  corps ; 
While  from  the  North  young  gallant  Gates 

Brings  up  scarce  quite  a  score — 
A  few  poor,  plain,  Provincial  troops, 

All  useless  in  the  fight, 
But  privileg'd  to  look  upon 

This  show  of  British  might ! ! 

*  Sir  Peter  Halket. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  63 

"  And  now  abroad,  its  flaunting  folds 

Each  banner  proudly  flings ; 
With  new  and  unaccustomed  sounds 

The  western  forest  rings ; 
The  pomp  of  trumpet,  fife  and  drum, 

The  tramp — the  clash  of  steel — 
The  lumbering  artillery — 

The  cason's  groaning  wheel — 


"  The  deeply-laden  baggage  wains — 

A  long,  far-stretching  train, 
That  slowly  winds  its  untracked  way 

Through  forest,  swamp,  and  plain ; 
With  shouts,  and  songs,  and  noisy  cheers, 

And  loud-resounding  blows, 
Which  fiercely  on  his  straining  team 

Each  driver  free  bestows. 


"  The  sturdy  giants  of  the  wood, 

In  vernal  foilage  crowned, 
As  if  amazed,  in  wond'ring  tones 

Repeat  each  novel  sound; 
While  listening  to  the  careless  din, 

The  wary  Indian  scout, 
By  ear  alone,  unheard,  unseen, 

Marks  well  our  devious  route. 


64  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  At  length,  with  weary  months  of  toil, 

Our  destined  post  we  near : 
The  van  with  Braddock  pushes  on — 

Dunbar  brings  up  the  rear ; 
At  head  of  twice  six  hundred  men, 

Sparks,  Gage,  and  Halket  ride, 
Where  joins  with  Yougheogany 

Monongahela's  tide. 

"  There,  turning  from  the  rugged  hills 

That  skirt  the  northern  banks, 
Across  Monongahela's  ford 

They  lead  the  glit'ring  ranks ; 
And  wheel  along  the  level  shore, 

Where  opes  a  lengthened  glade, 
Upon  the  sun-lit  river's  brink, 

And  'neath  the  forest's  shade. 

"  Oh,  ne'er  was  seen  more  gallant  sight, 

As  burst  the  orb  of  day 
On  that  long  line  of  stately  troops, 

In  all  their  proud  array  ;* 
The  polished  casques — the  waving  plumes, 

The  muskets  burnished  bright, 
Far  flashing  through  the  open  wood 

The  level  beams  of  light. 

*  Washington,  in  one  of  his  letters,  says  that  he  never  saw  a  more 
gallant  military  show  than  was  presented  hy  these  troops  when  he 
joined  them,  after  first  crossing  the  Monongahela. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  65 

But  .who  is  this  upon  our  track, 

Who,  here  with  flowing  rein, 
Comes  spurring  with  impatient  speed, 

Our  column's  front  to  gain  ? 
Though  fever's  rage  has  paled  his  cheek, 

And  sunk  his  flashing  eye, 
His  stalwart  form  still  towers  with  pride — 

His  mein  is  firm  and  high. 


"  On  him  the  proud  Provincials  all 

Turn  looks  of  pleased  surprise, 
And  greet  him  to  the  field  once  more 

With  smiles  and  beaming  eyes ; 
And  well  they  may,  for  well  they  know 

Virginia's  gallant  son — 
The  peerless  horseman,  soldier,  chief, 

The  youthful  Washington. 

"  And  now  again  we  cross  the  stream, 

The  northern  bank  regain, 
And  rising  from  the  river's  bed, 

Ascend  an  open  plain ; 
That  smiling  plain,  so  quiet,  smooth, 

WTith  woods  environed  round, 
And  over  at  its  farthest  verge 

With  gentle  hillocks  crowned — 


66 


ROMANCE     DUST. 

'*  Embosomed  in  the  forest  dark, 

And  clothed  in  richest  green, 
It  softly  woos  the  bright  sunbeams, 

And  glows  in  summer  sheen, 
A  dimple  in  wild  nature's  cheek, 

Refining  features  rude, 
And  lighting  up  with  joy  ant  smile 

The  forest's  solitude. 

"  And  thus  it  lay,  so  bright  and  still, 

With  not  a  sound  of  life, 
Save  voice  of  one  ill-omened  bird, 

Who,  prescient  of  the  strife, 
Surveys  our  noisy,  gallant  show — 
Surveys  our  still  and  ambushed  foe, 

From  perch  far  over  head, 
And  loudly  calls  his  sable  kin 

To  banquet  on  the  dead. 

"  Once  more  in  vain  'tis  strongly  urged, 

That  some  Provincial  corps 
Of  scouts,  trained  up  to  Indian  wiles, 

The  woods  around  explore; 
But  Braddock  no  advice  will  hear, 

No  ambush  does  he  dread — 
'  Who'll  dare  confront  a  British  force 

While  he  is  at  its  head?' 


67 


"  With  ranks  compact,  our  stately  troops 

Tramp  o'er  the  grass-grown  plain ; 
Hurrah  !  we'll  march  for  three  short  leagues, 

And  rest  in  doomed  Duquesne ; 
With  ranks  compact,  and  steady  steps, 

Hearts  beating  high  with  hope, 
Our  gleaming  columns  foremost  files 

Ascend  the  gentle  slope. 

/'    <f 

"  Crash !  crash !  from  out  the  very  ground, 

Up  which  our  front  ranks  wheel, 
Shoots  forth  a  sheet  of  livid  flame — 

They  falter,  stagger,  reel ; 
In  front,  on  flank,  the  furious  blast 

Pours  forth  from,  deep  ravine, 
Where,  covered  by  the  tall  rank  grass, 

No  mortal  foe  is  seen. 


"  As  when,  unheralded  by  sign, 

The  thunder-storm  awakes 
The  slumb'ring  wood,  and  far  and  wide 

The  dreamy  silence  breaks  ; 
As  when  no  cloud  forshades  the  bolt, 

But  'mid  its  startling  crash, 
Upon  the  leaves  the  big  drops  fall 

With  deep  and  sullen  plash. 


ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  So  breaks  that  wild  and  deadly  storm, 

So  roars  that  deadly  blast, 
So  sullen  on  defenceless  breasts 

The  leaden  drops  fall  fast. 
A  moment's  pause !     Again  it  comes 

In  one  continuous  shower, 
And  from  each  tree,  and  bush,  and  tuft, 
The  murky  flashes  lower. 


"  A  thousand  rifles  flashing  fast, 

Dispatch  with  sulphu'rous  breath, 
From  'neath  the  covers,  dark  and  dense, 

Their  messengers  of  death ; 
A  thousand  rifles  flashing  fast, 

The  angry  echoes  wake, 
And  joined  with  shouts,  and  oaths  and  yells, 

Wild,  hellish  music  make. 


"  Eash  Gage's  corps,  which  forms  our  van, 

Dismayed,  with  looks  aghast, 
Rush  back,  and  our  advancing  ranks 

In  deep  disorder  cast. 
The  panic  spreads — confused,  deranged, 

And  paralyzed  with  fear, 
No  orders  will  the  dastards  mind, 

No  leaders  will  they  hear. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  69 

"  '  To  cover  !  take  to  cover,  men  !' 
Peyrouny  fiercely  shouts ; 

*  Beneath  the  wood,  creep  on  their  flank, 

My  brave  and  vet'ran  scouts  !' 

*  To  cover  !  take  to  cover  men  !' 

Bold  Poulson's  voice  replies ; 
'  Stir  not,  stir  not,  stand  fast  and  firm  !' 
Besotted  Braddock  cries. 


'  Deploy,  deploy,  wheel  into  line, 

Advance  the  serried  rank  ; 
From  covert  foe  't  shall  ne'er  be  said 

A  British  soldier  shrank  !' 
Bold,  but  besotted  Braddock,  hold  ! 

Alas  !  he  little  knows 
What  cowards  he  to  battle  leads, 

What  'vantage  has  his  foes. 


"  Amid  the  fierce,  death-dealing  storm, 

Athwart  the  field  he  flies, 
And  vainly  his  poor  quailing  troops 

To  form  and  rally  tries  ; 
And  vainly  Orme,  and  Washington, 

His  aids,  with  orders  ride  ; 
The  bloody  rowels  striking  deep 

The  panting  courser's  side. 


70  ROMANCE    DUST. 

"  «  One  gallant  charge  !'  Sir  Peter  cries  ; 

'  Hurrah  !  who  follows  me  ? 
Before  one  firm,  determined  charge 

The  skulking  foe  will  flee.' 
And  at  the  word,  unto  a  man, 

The  fearless  leaders  spring, 
And  round  their  heads  invitingly 

Their  flashing  sabres  swing. 

"  Five  times  those  gallant,  dauntless  men 

Rush  on  that  line  of  fire — 
Five  times  before  its  hissing  flames 

With  thinned  ranks  retire  ; 
And  every  time,  with  gesture,  voice, 

Entreaties,  hoarse  commands, 
They  strive  to  lead  up  to  the  charge 

Their  panic-stricken  bands. 

"  In  vain  !  no  cheers  will  urge  them  on, 

No  words  their  ranks  restore, 
But  mid  their  own  brave  officers 

Their  aimless  volleys  pour  ; 
And  as  around  their  fellows  fall, 

Those  trained  and  showy  troops 
Rush  to  and  fro  across  the  field 

In  wild,  tumultuous  groups. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  71 

"  c  Now  curses  on  the  dastard  fools  !' 

Peyrouny  fiercely  cries ; 
A  rifle  bullet  through  his  heart — 

He  staggers,  falls,  and  dies. 
Five  horses  under  him  shot  down, 

A  British  ball,  ('tis  said,) 
Bold  Braddock  wounded,  lays  alow, 

With  Shirley,  Halket,  dead. 

"Morris,  and  Orme,  and  Gage  are  down, 

With  Sparks  and  brave  St.  Clair, 
And  Burton,  too,  with  many  more, 

The  same  hard  fate  doth  share. 
As  fiercest  on  the  tallest  trees 

Is  poured  the  lightning's  wrath, 
So  fiercest  by  the  plume-marked  brave 

Is  felt  the  death-storm's  scath — 

"  'Till  not  a  mounted  chief  remains, 

Save  one — that  only  one, 
Who  coolly  rides  'midst  smoke  and  flame, 

The  gallant  Washington. 
Alone,  of  all  that  field,  he  rides, 

Majestic,  calm,  serene — 
The  noblest  target  that  by  foe 

In  battle  e'er  was  seen. 


72  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  Alone,  of  all  that  field,  he  rides, 

A  mark  for  every  eye, 
Round  which  the  spiteful  bullets  hiss, 

Like  adders  in  the  sky  ; 
And  as  from  point  to  point  he  moves 

Unharmed,  demoniac  cries 
From  wond'ring  and  infuriate  foes 

With  ten-fold  fury  rise. 

"  Twice  'neath  him  have  his  steeds  gone  down 

Before  the  leaden  sleet — 
No  lack  of  empty  saddles  there, 

He  instant  vaults  to  seat ; 
And  scathless,  freely  dashes  through 

The  thickest  of  the  strife ; 
Till  e'en  the  savages  respect 

His  heaven-protected  life. 

"  Six  times  a  chief  his  rifle  points 

Against  his  manly  breast, 
With  careful  and  delib'rate  sight, 

And  firm  and  steady  rest ; 
Six  times  at  that  same  noble  mark 

His  Braves  aim  fair  and  nigh — 
Six  times  the  hissing  volleys  pass 

The  hero  harmless  by. 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  73 

' '  Desist !  desist !'  the  chieftain  cries  ; 

'  I  see  the  Spirit's  arm 
Outstretched,  that  lofty  form  to  save 

And  shield  from  every  harm. 
For  some  high  duty  he's  reserved, 

Some  purpose  to  fulfil, 
And  wrong  and  vain  'twill  be  to  strive 

God's  chosen  one  to  kill.' 


"  '  Extend  your  lines,  Virginians, 

Stretch  out  on  left  and  right ; 
Our  duty  and  our  honor  'tis 

To  shield  these  cowards'  flight.' 
Encouraged  by  his  cheerful  voice, 

We  stoutly  stand  at  bay, 
And  as  the  fiends  from  cover  leap, 

Our  rifles  steady  play. 

"  Retreating  slowly,  face  to  foe, 

The  river's  brink  we  gain, 
But  sorely  pressed — of  all  our  corps 

Scarce  thirty  men  remain. 
Ah  !  what  a  scene  of  pain  and  death, 

Defeat,  disgrace,  distress, 
As  to  the  calm,  bright  river's  bed 
The  frantic  soldiers  press. 
4 


74  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  With  pallid  cheeks,  in  fearful  haste, 

They  dash  adown  the  banks, 
Where  three  short  hours  before  upsprang 

Their  proud  and  glitt'ring  ranks  ; 
Their  dripping  wounds  entinting  wide. 

As  o'er  the  ford  they  rush, 
Upon  the  shamed  indignant  tide 

A  deep  and  gory  blush. 

"  And  as  we  cross,  what  hellish  sounds 

Kise  from  that  fatal  plain, 
And  swell  o'er  stream  and  echoing  woods 

A  wild  demoniac  strain  ! 
Yells,  shouts  and  shrieks,  of  man  and  steed 

Wrung  forth  in  pain  and  fright, 
And  ruthless  deeds  of  savage  rage 

'Pall  heaving  soul  and  sight. 

"  Like  tigers  springing  from  their  lairs, 
.  The  red-skins  throng  the  plain, 
Where,  weltering  together,  lie 

The  wounded  and  the  slain  : 
Like  tigers  to  a  feast  of  blood 

They  rush  upon  their  prey, 
And  tear  from  the  unstiffened  dead 

The  reeking  scalps  away. 


75 


"  Or  worse,  the  wounded,  low,  in  pain, 

Yet  still  instinct  with  life, 
Feel  circling  round  their  death-damp  brows 

The  keen  and  searing  knife  ; 
And,  as  in  agony  they  writhe, 

Beseech  with  failing  breath, 
In  vain,  the  yelling  fiends  to  grant 

The  last,  poor  boon  of  death. 

"  But  well  for  us,  the  scalps  and  spoils 

The  savages  detain, 
Or  not  a  man  had  lived  to  see 

Home,  wife  or  child  again. 
No,  not  a  man  bold  Dunbar's  camp 

Had  reached,  the  tale  to  tell — 
How,  on  that  fatal,  bloody  field 

Six  hundred  soldiers  fell ; 
How  British  ignorance  and  pride 

Heaped  in  inglorious  grave, 
By  dark  Monongahela's  banks, 

The  coward  and  the  brave." 


"  Ah  !  stranger,  many  a  fight  I've  seen, 

Full  many  a  bloody  fray, 
But  ever  stern  hath  mem'ry  held 
The  sights  I  saw  that  day. 


ROMANCE     DUST. 

I've  seen  them  in  the  forest  wild, 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
And  where  the  prairie  rolls  its  waves — 

A  boundless,  grassy  sea. 

"  In  field,  and  camp,  and  festive  hall, 

The  long,  adventurous  chase, 
Or  tracking  like  a  blood-hound  fierce, 

The  prowling  red  man's  trace, 
They've  steeled  my  heart,  and  fired  my  blood, 

Quickened  my  pulses  beat, 
Have  aimed  the  ball,  and  edged  the  knife, 
Have  nerved  my  arm  in  hours  of  strife, 

And  winged  my  agile  feet. 

"  But  ah !  the  thirst  of  vengeance  o'er, 

Fierce  passions  quiet  sleep  ; 
And  much,  I  fear,  my  greedy  lips 
Have  quaffed  the  cup  too  deep. 
Too  deep  !  ah  !  yes,  the  vengeful  draught 

Too  deeply  have  I  drained, 
And  all  too  deep  this  aged  hand 
With  red  men's  blood  is  stained." 


The  old  man  stops  !  his  strength  is  spent, 
The  flash  deserts  his  eye  ; 


WASHINGTON'S    FIRST    BATTLE.  77 

Trembling,  he  sinks  into  his  seat, 

And  heaves  a  gentle  sigh, 
And  mutters  to  himself  again, 

And  shakes  his  snowy  head, 
As  slowly  he  counts  o'er  and  o'er 

The  Tally  of  the  Dead ! 


78  ROMANCE     DUST. 


A  LEGEND 


OF 


THE  CAPE  DE  VERDES ; 


AN  OMITTED  CHAPTER  OF  "  KALOOLAH." 


"  It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  at  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  the  islands,  the  Peak 
of  Fuego  did  not  exist ;  that  is,  if  we  may  believe  the  traditions  of  the  inhabi 
tants.  Certain  it  is,  that  Cade  Mosto,  an  adventurous  Genoese — in  the  service  of 
the  Portuguese — who  discovered  them,  makes  no  mention  of  it ;  and  it  was  some 
time  after  his  day  that  the  name  he  gave  it — St.  Felipe — was  superseded  by  that 
of  Fuego,  or  island  of  fire.  It  seems,  that  shortly  after  Cada  Mosto's  visit,  the 
whole  island  was  enveloped  in  flames,  and  that,  in  consequence,  no  efforts  were 
made  to  people  it  for  many  years.  At  length,  the  fire  having  subsided,  excepting 
at  what  is  now  the  Peak,  the  king  of  Portugal  issued  an  edict,  granting  the  lands 
to  whoever  would  settle  upon  them  ;  and  a  scanty  population  was  soon  drawn 
from  St.  Jago,  Mayo,  and  the  other  islands — partly  allured  by  the  hope  of  finding 
some  of  the  gold  which,  according  to  tradition,  was  the  cause  of  the  fire. 

"  Among  our  crew,  as  I  have  said,  were  several  Portuguese,  two  or  three  of 
whom  were  natives  of  the  Cape  de  Verdes— black,  curly-headed  fellows,  with 
marks  of  the  strong  infusion  of  negro  blood,  common  to  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  islands.  It  was  of  these,  and  surrounded  by  a  group  of  other  sailors,  that  I 
was  making  some  inquiries  in  relation  to  Fonta  de  Villa  and  the  little  town  of  La 
Ghate,  off  which  we  were  becalmed.  All  at  once  a  broad  glare  of  light  shot  up 
from  the  dark  mountain,  illuminating  the  rugged  sides,  and  streaming  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  far  out  to  seaward. 

"  'El  Pico  !  El  Pico  !'  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Two  tall  columns  flashed  upward  from  the  mountain ;  at  one  moment  steady 
and  erect — the  next,  quivering  and  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  currents  of  the 
wind ;  now  seeming  to  repel  each  other,  now  bowing,  crouching  and  turning, 
like  wary  combatants  preparing  for  a  struggle  for  life  or  death,  they  would  rush 
at  each  other,  close,  and  writhe  for  an  instant  in  the  fierce  embrace. 


THE     CAPE     DEVERDES.  79 

"  'Los  Padres  T  shouted  one  fellow.  '  Los  Magi cos  !'  exclaimed  a  second. 
'  Los  Alquimistas  .''  bellowed  a  third. 

"  '  Priests,  magicians,  and  alchemists  !     What  do  you  mean  f  I  demanded. 

"  '  Oh.  ask  Pedro  Vosalo,'  replied  one  of  the  crew  ;  '  he  was  born  just  round 
the  point,  where  you  see  so  many  sea-weed  fires,  in  the  little  bay  of  Nossa  Seno- 
ra,  and  he  knows  all  about  it.  Pedro  !  Pedro  !  come  here,  and  tell  senor  el  medico 
the  story  of  the  magicians.' 

"  Nothing  loth,  Master  Pedro,  a  little  round-shouldered,  bandy-legged  mulatto, 
came  forward,  and  throwing  aside  the  stump  of  his  paper  segar,  commenced  his 
story,  which,  fortunately  for  the  reader,  I  am  not  disposed  to  attempt  giving  in 
the  execrable  patois,  half  Spanish  and  half  Portuguese,  in  which  it  was  told." 


The  above  is  an  extract  from  the  romance  of  Kaloo- 
lah.  While  that  work  was  going  through  the  press,  it 
was  found  necessary,  in  order  to  keep  it  within  certain 
limits  as  to  size  and  price,  to  suppress  a  good  many 
pages.  Among  matter  thus  thrown  out  was  Pedro's 
story,  which  ran  as  follows : 

"  You  must  know,  senor,"  began  Pedro,  "  that  many, 
many  years  ago  there  lived  over  on  the  other  island  of 
Jago  two  very  celebrated  men,  who  were  renowned  as 
much  for  their  knowledge,  as  for  their  pretended  piety 
and  holiness.  They  were  both  monks  of  the  most  holy 
order  of  St.  Dominick.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Fa 
ther  Gonzalo,  and  of  the  other  Father  Alvarez.  No  one 
knew  anything  of  their  history,  except  that  they  had 
been  great  travellers  and  students.  They  had  not  known 
each  other  until  their  arrival  at  St.  Jago:  but  they  im 
mediately  formed  a  great  friendship.  They  kept  aloof 
from  their  brethren  of  the  convent,  and  were  often  heard 
talking  together  in  a  very  queer  kind  of  language,  and 


80  ROMANCEDUST. 

seen  drawing  the  most  diabolical  figures  upon  the  ground. 
Still  they  were  such  very  good  Christians  to  all  appear 
ance,  that  no  one  dared  to  say  anything  against  them 
openly,  although  the  brethren  in  time  began  to  think 
that  they  knew  a  great  deal  more  than  a  pious  man 
ought  to,  and  tha-t  they  might  be  wizards,  or  perhaps 
alchemists." 

"  Alchemists !"  I  demanded.  "  What  do  you  under 
stand  by  that?" 

"  I  don't  know,  senor ;  but  Father  Chacon  used  to 
tell  us  that  it  was  something  a  great  deal  worse  than 
a  witch,  or  a  magician.  God  save  us  from  all  such;" 
and  here  the  little  rascal  devoutly  crossed  himself,  in 
which  he  was  followed  by  his  cut-throat  companions 
who  were  grouped  around  us. 

"Well,  things  went  on  in  this  way  for  a  long  time," 
continued  Pedro,  "  until  at  last"  the  two  Fathers  began 
to  find  out  that  everybody  suspected  them ;  and  so  they 
resolved  to  come  over  to  this  island  and  live.  At  that 
time  it  was  supposed  that  there  was  not  a  single  inha 
bitant  here.  There  was  no  Peak  then,  but  it  was  very 
high  and  rocky,  and  it  was  covered  all  over  so  thick 
with  sulphur,  that  there  was  no  place  where  you  could 
plant  an  olive  tree  or  a  grape  vine. 

"  Very  glad  were  the  people  of  St.  Jago  when  the 
two  Fathers  took  a  small  boat  and  set  out;  because, 
although  they  had  clone  no  harm  to  any  one,  every  one 


THE     CAPE     DEVERDES.  81 

was  afraid  that  some  day,  with  their  great  knowledge, 
they  would  destroy  the  town,  and  perhaps  the  whole 
island.  No  one  could  feel  safe  for  a  moment  when  he 
knew  that  they  had  sold  their  souls,  and  that  at  any 
moment  the  Evil  One  might  come  for  them,  and  per 
haps  take  the  opportunity  to  carry  off  more  than  he  had 
bargained  for ;  because  you  see,  senor,  the  Devil,  if  he 
can  get  an  excuse  for  coming  into  a  town,  has  a  right 
to  carry  off  any  one  who  has  neglected  to  confess  or  at 
tend  mass." 

"  Indeed  !  I  was  not  aware,"  said  I,  "  that  that  was 
a  privilege  of  his  Satanic  Excellency." 

"  Oh,  yes,  senor,  I  have  often  heard  Father  Chacon 
say  so.  Well,  you  see  the  monks  landed  and  set  about 
building  a  stone  hut,  thinking  that  they  were  all  alone 
upon  the  island,  when,  in  the  midst  of  their  work,  they 
saw  coming  towards  them  a  stately,  noble,  well-dressed 
cavalier — a  real  Don.  He  was  dressed  in  a  magnificent 
cloth  cloak,  beneath  which  he  wore  a  shirt  of  mail,  co 
vered  in  front  with  a  leather  apron  with  slits  in  it,  into 
which  were  stuck  a  huge  dagger,  and  two  or  three  pairs 
of  pistols.  The  scabbard  of  his  long  spado,  or  sword, 
was  made  to  open  by  means  of  a  spring,  to  save  time 
and  trouble  in  drawing  the  weapon,  and  over  the  pum 
mel  was  hung  a  chaplet  of  beads,  like  a  good  and  Chris 
tian  gentleman.  Upon  his  head  he  wore  a  high  peaked 
hat,  with  a  brirn  an  arm's  length  in  width,  and  looped 

4* 


82  ROMANCEDUST. 

up  a  little  on  one  side  with  a  silk  cord  and  a  tassel  as 
big  as  my  fist.  Oh!  wasn't  that  a  most  splendid  dress! 
I've  had  it  described  to  me  fifty  times,  and  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  never  could  get  tired  of  hearing  of  it." 

"  Or  talking  of  it  either,  Senor  hallatesta"  inter 
posed  a  rough  guardian  del  contramaestre,  or  boatswain's 
mate.  "  Go  on  with  your  story,  and  don't  stand  jab 
bering  about  it  all  night." 

Thus  admonished,  Pedro  continued  his  discourse. 

"The  Don  saluted  the  two  monks,  and  welcomed 
them  to  the  island,  upon  which  he  said  he  had  been  for 
many  years,  having  been  wrecked  on  his  passage  to  the 
Mina,  or  Gold-coast,  and  the  only  one  saved  out  of  the 
whole  crew.  He  offered  them  any  assistance  in  his 
power;  and  soon  the  three  grew  very  friendly,  each  one 
glad  of  the  new  acquaintance  he  had  made. 

"In  this  way  they  lived  together  for  several  days, 
until  at  last  the  Don  told  the  monks,  among  other  things, 
that  there  was  plenty  of  gold  on  the  island ;  and  at 
their  request  he  took  them  and  showed  them  where  it 
was  to  be  found.  As  soon  as  they  saw  the  gold,  the 
monks  began  to  think  that  their  new  friend  was  one  too 
many,  and  that  it  would  be  much  better  to  share  the 
gold  between  two  than  three  :  so  they  consulted  toge 
ther,  and  concluded  to  murder  the  Don  in  his  sleep. 
But  for  my  part,  I  can't  see  why,  if  they  were  great 
magicians,  and  could  make  gold,  they  should  have  been 


THE      CAPE      DE     VERDES.  83 

so  anxious  to  keep  the   Don  out  of  his  share  of  what 
he  had  found. 

"  But  so  it  was :  they  killed  the  Don,  and  began 
collecting  the  gold  which  he  had  shown  them.  But 
they  had  not  worked  long  at  that  business  before  they 
began  to  disagree.  Each  one  wanted  to  assume  power 
over  the  other,  and  each  one  expressed  a  determination 
to  lay  claim  to  more  than  half  the  precious  metal ;  so 
that  from  being  the  best  of  friends  they  soon  came  to 
be  mortal  foes. 

"  '  I  tell  you,'  said  Gonzalo,  { that  I  am  the  most 
renowned  and  learned  magician  of  the  two.  Have  I 
not  studied  in  the  East  at  the  very  fountain-head  of  sci 
ence?  Have  I  not  been  taught  the  mysteries  of  the 
most  holy  Cabaa.  Am  I  not  the  favorite  disciple  of  my 
master  Mahmoud?.  I  tell  you  I  am  the  superior,  and  I 
will  be  obeyed.' 

"  '  Go  to,'  replied  Alvarez.  *  with  your  Cabaa  and 
your  Mahmoud.  Havn't  I  travelled  all  over  Soudan 
and  Bambarra,  and  lived  in  the  great  city  of  Tombute, 
and  don't  I  know  all  the  mysteries  of  the  fetish,  and 
am  I  not  the  favorite  disciple  of  the  great  Obih  ?  Go 
to,  I  say,  I  am  the  most  learned  and  the  most  power 
ful  magician,  and  I  will  be  obeyed.' 

"  And  so  they  wrangled  for  three  days,  and  then 
they  withdrew  to  different  parts  of  the  island,  and  com 
menced  working  at  their  art,  each  one  to  destroy  the 


84  R  O  M  A  N  C  E     D  U  S  T  . 

other.  All  kinds  of  tricks  and  sorceries  and  incanta 
tions  they  practised  against  each  other ;  and  the  fight 
between  Mahmoud  and  Obih  lasted  a  great  many  weeks. 
All  that  time  the  island  was  covered  with  thick  clouds, 
which  could  be  plainly  seen  at  St.  Jago ;  and  in  the 
clouds  hosts  of  spirits  rushed  upon  one  another  night 
and  day  with  a  most  terrific  noise. 

"  One  night  the  good  citizens  of  Ribeyro  Grande 
were  startled  by  a  great  light,  and  looking  over  this 
way,  they  saw  the  whole  island  in  flames.  The  magi 
cians  had  set  it  on  fire" 

"  Whether  by  accident  or  design  is  not  known,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  No,  senor,  but  Father  Chacon  used  to  tell  us  that 
the  way  he  thought  it  came  about  was  this.  You  see 
the  ground  was  all  covered  wTith  sulphur,  and  one  of 
the  magicians  used  such  a  powerful  charm  to  call  up 
the  Evil  Spirit,  that  he  was  compelled  to  come  instant 
ly,  without  time  to  cool  on  the  way ;  so  that  arriving 
here  hissing  hot,  the  moment  his  fiery  feet  touched  the 
sulphur  the  whole  soil  took  fire." 

"  A  very  probable  supposition  of  Father  Chacon," 
said  I. 

"Oh!  yes,  senor:  Father  Chacon  knows  how  all  such 
things  come  about.  But  to  finish  my  story.  The  fire 
continued  to  burn  for  a  great  many  years;  and  amidst 
the  flame  and  smoke  the  magicians  could  be  seen  fight- 


THE     CAPE     DEVERDES.  85 

ing  with  each  other,  aided  by  vast  armies  of  spirits 
and  demons." 

"  And  which  conquered  1" 

"  Oh !  neither  of  them  as  yet,  senor.  They  keep  it 
up  yet,  as  you  can  see  with  your  own  eyes.  Those  two 
flames  are  the  magicians  themselves.  You  see  the  gold 
is  in  the  mountain,  and  when  the  fire  subsided,  and  peo 
ple  came  over  here  from  the  other  islands,  the  two 
monks  took  up  their  residence  in  the  Peak,  and  by  their 
struggles  have  raised  it  up  so  high.  Sometimes  for 
weeks  you  can  hear  them  growling  and  threatening,  and 
throwing  great  stones  with  so  much  force,  that  at  times 
they  fly  up  into  the  sky  twice  as  high  as  the  moun 
tain  ;  and  sometimes  they  come,  out  and  fight  upon  the 
top  of  the  Peak,  as  they  do  to-night.  See,  now  they 
have  got  hold  of  each  other,  and  hear  how  they  bellow 
and  roar." 

The  flames  now  rushed  together,  writhed  and  twisted, 
again  separated  and  again  united,  with  an  appearance  of 
animosity  and  rage  that  might  almost  justify  a  belief 
in  the  legend. 

"And  the  gold,"  said  I,  "has  any  of  it  ever  been 
found?" 

"  No,  senor ;  but  the  inhabitants  are  in  hopes  every 
day  that  some  of  it  will  be  thrown  over  the  side  of 
the  mountain.  Whenever  there  is  a  great  eruption  they 
always  go  to  look  for  it;  but  as  yet  they  have  never 


86  ROMANCEDUST. 

found  anything  but  pumice  stones  and  sulphur.  Some 
day  it  will  come,  and  then  won't  they  be  rich?  The 
meanest  fisherman  of  Fonta  de  Villa  will  have  sombre 
ros  with  a  brim  as  large  as  our  bonetas  de  Foynes,  (jib 
bonnets,)  and  cloaks  that  will  come  down  to  their  heels, 
and  rosaries  of  real  coral  and  pearls." 

The  traveller,  whose  bad  luck  it  may  be  to  put  up 
at  the  dirty  posada,  in  the  little  miserable  town  of  La 
Ghate,  will  find  upon  inquiry  that  Pedro's  story  is  a 
true  legend  of  Fuego,  and  that  the  common  people  are 
not  alone  in  their  belief  of  its  truth.  It  is  a  matter  of 
faith  as  well  with  the  priests,  the  dignitaries,  and  the 
governor  of  the  town,  which  it  would  take  two  or  three 
courses  of  geological  lectures  to  unsettle.  Fortunately 
for  the  credit  of  the  wizards  of  the  Peak,  there  is  no 
lyceum  at  La  Ghate,  and  the  schoolmaster  has  never 
taken  the  Cape  de  Verdes  in  his  tour. 


A    REAL    PIRATE. 


IN  this  enlightened  age,  the  notion  obtains  very  ex 
tensively  that  a  real,  veritable,  bona-fide  pirate,  is  quite 
an  obsolete  affair — a  character  of  the  past — a  fellow  who 
has  performed  his  part,  and  retired  from  the  world's 
stage  for  ever,  leaving  behind  him  nothing  but  his  name 
and  a  few  pleasant  and  poetical  associations ;  among 
which  occur  black  flags,  and  bloody,  emblazoned  with 
death's  heads;  scuttled  ships,  with  projecting  planks  nicely 
balanced  over  their  quarter  rails;  and  low,  black  schoo 
ners,  with  masts  stepped  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  de 
grees,  or,  as  the  sailors  say,  "  half  way  between  nothing 
at  all  and  a  church-steeple."  Talking  of  pirates,  peo 
ple  at  once  think  of  the  Buccaneers,  or  the  Salle  Ro 
vers  ;  and  if  by  special  invitation  their  attention  is  at 
tracted  to  the  piratical  of  modern  times,  they  boggle  at 
Lafitte  and  the  victims  of  Commodore  Porter's  cruise, 
and  come  to  a  dead  halt  at  the  mention  of  the  re 
nowned  Wansley  and  Gibbs.  Beyond  these  two  wor 
thies,  now  some  fifteen  years  defunct,  it  is  almost  irn- 


88  ROMANCE      DUST. 

possible  to  coax  the  credulity  of  a  single  member  of 
this  not-to-be-humbugged  community.  No  !  it's  of  no 
use.  Then  and  there,  on  Bedlow's  Island,  was  hanged 
until  it  was  dead,  the  romance  of  the  seas ;  and  now, 
of  all  those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  do 
their  business  in  the  great  waters,  you  can't  find  a  do 
zen  who,  apart  from  the  question  of  Malay  proas  off  the 
coast  of  Sumatra  and  around  Java  Head,  have  any  more 
respect  for  pirates  than  a  modern  boy  of  eight  years  old 
has  for  ghosts  or  the  devil.  Alas,  for  the  good  old  pi 
ratical  and  poetical !  both  have  been  swamped  in  the 
floods  of  utilitarianism ;  often  united  in  their  lives,  in 
their  deaths  they  are  not  divided.  In  this  respect,  how 
ever,  their  degenerate  progeny  may  be  said  to  resemble 
them,  but  with  a  difference :  the  old  piratical  was  always 
poetical ;  the  new  poetical,  'tis  said,  is  often,  if  not  al 
ways,  piratical. 

The  piratical  having  thus  nearly  disappeared  as  an  ele 
ment  of  the  social  state,  and  a  very  general  skepticism  as 
to  any  lingering  remnants  of  it  having  taken  possession  of 
the  public  mind,  it  behoves  any  one  about  to  introduce 
a  real  pirate  into  general  society,  to  preface  his  appear 
ance  by  an  assertion  of  his  claims  to  confidence.  With 
this  view  I  have  added  the  epithet  real — meaning  thereby 
an  actual,  veritable  pirate,  in  contradistinction  to  your 
ideal  Red  Rovers,  and  all  such  kind  of  fanciful  craft. 
My  freebooter  was  alive  and  hearty  but  a  few  years 


AREALPIRATE.  89 

since,  and  I  presume  he  is  so  now,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
a  middle-aged  man,  with  a  good  constitution ;  and  my 
story,  if  it  has  but  a  little  romance  in  it,  has  a  good 
deal  of  truth,  which  is  something  in  these  days  of  ani 
mal  magnetism,  spiritual  knockings,  and  quack  medicines. 

But  where  shall  I  begin  ?  Ah !  I  see — just  off  the 
Island  of  Flores,  with  Corvo,  black  as  one  of  the  crows 
from  which  it  is  named,  far  off  in  the  distance  to  the 
north.  Beautiful  is  the  first  land  fall  at  sea,  under  any 
circumstances,  and  it  may  be  imagined  that  it  was 
with  no  ordinary  feelings  of  pleasure  that  we  gazed  up 
the  deep  ravines  and  green  valleys,  dotted  with  oc 
casional  hamlets,  churches  and  convents,  and  along  the 
steep  and  rugged  hill-sides  of  the  northernmost  of  the 
Azores. 

"  Beautiful !"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  stood  upon  the  poop- 
deck  of  the  corvette  "C***,  with  my  spy-glass  supported 
against  the  shrouds  of  the  mizzen-rigging ;  "  what  a 
lovely  and  inviting  valley !" 

"  Beautiful,  indeed,"  replied  one  of  the  officers  of  the 
ship ;  "  but  did  you  ever  hear  that  remark  about  dis 
tance  lending  enchantment  to  the  view  ?  If  you  were 
ashore  there,  you  would  find  things  of  a  different  hue, 
I'll  be  bound.  Those  dark  green  slopes  are  nothing  but 
potato  patches,  or  what  is  equally  unpicturesque,  stum 
py  and  bushy  vineyards ;  and  as  for  those  pleasant- 
looking  hamlets,  I'll  bet  you  couldn't  get  within  fifty 


90  ROMANCE     OUST. 

rods  of  them  for  the  filth  and  stench  with  which  they 
are  surrounded.  There  is  nothing  like  a  Portuguese 
villa  in  the  distance  for  an  optical  illusion." 

The  further  discussion  of  the  beauties  of  Flores, 
which,  despite  of  the  lieutenant's  contemptuous  opinion 
of  Portuguese  picturesqueness,  seemed  to  be  worthy  of 
its  name — the  Island  of  Flowers — was  interrupted  by  a 
midshipman,  who,  touching  his  cap  to  the  officer  of  the 
deck,  reported  something  floating  in  the  water,  a  few 
hundred  yards  off  the  weather-beam. 

"  What  does  it  look  like?"  demanded  the  lieutenant. 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  the  middy,  "  it  looks  to  me 
like  a  bunch  of  sea- weed ;  but  Jem  Jones,  of  the  fore- 
top,  says  he  thinks  it  is  something  more  than  sea-weed; 
and  Jones  has  got  eyes  like  a  hawk." 

"  Pshaw !  it's  nothing  but  some  piece  of  a  spar, 
with  sea-weed  collected  round  it.  However,  there  is  no 
harm  in  looking  at  it  a  little  nearer.  Take  a  pull  on 
the  larboard  braces  !  luff  up  !  luff  up  !  Mr.  P****  re 
port  to  the  captain  a  nondescript  in  sight  to  windward." 

"  Fore-top,  there  !"  shouted  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
in  a  few  minutes  after  his  order  for  bracing  up  the 
yards  had  been  executed.  "  Fore-top,  there  !  have  you 
got  your  eyes  open  ?" 

"  Aye,-  aye,  sir." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  make  out  on  the  weather-bow  1" 

"  A  barrel  or  cask  of  some  kind." 


AREALPIRATE.  91 

"  A  barrel !  well,  it's  to  be  hoped  there  is  some 
thing  in  it,"  observed  the  purser ;  "  to-morrow  is  the 
Fourth  of  July  :  perhaps  this  is  a  god-send  from  old 
Neptune,  in  honor  of  the  occasion." 

The  object  was  now  plainly  in  sight,  and  the  cap 
tain  coming  on  deck,  the  ship  was  hove-to,  and  a  boat 
lowered  and  sent  for  it.  It  proved  to  be  what  the  top- 
man  had  announced — a  barrel  ;  although,  when  close 
alongside,  it  was  puzzle  to  me  how  any  one  could  make 
out  its  character.  Upon  freeing  it  from  sea-weed,  and 
hoisting  it  on  board,  it  was  found  to  be  completely  en 
veloped  in  a  mass  of  animal  matter — barnacles,  sea- 
suckers,  long  worms,  and  a  kind  of  flat  centipede,  were 
intertwined  in  a  firm  and  solid  layer  from  three  to  four 
inches  thick.  The  cooper  was  sent  for,  and  after  a  good 
deal  of  active  exertion,  the  head  of  the  cask  was  ex 
posed  to  view. 

In  the  meantime  there  was  much  curious  specula 
tion  afloat  among  the  group  of  spectators,  as  to  the 
time  our  prize  had  been  in  the  water.  Three  years 
was  the  shortest  period  allotted  by  those  who  had  had 
most  experience  of  the  sea ;  while  among  the  junior  of 
ficers  there  was  a  considerable  diversity  of  opinion,  and 
a  much  more  liberal  allowance  of  time  to  conjecture. 
"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  demurely  interposed  one 
of  the  younger  middies — "  you  recollect  that  Columbus, 
when  he  was  coming  home  on  his  first  voyage,  was 


92  ROMANCE     DUST. 

caught  in  a  terrible  nor'wester  just  here,  off  the  West- 
tern  Islands,  and  in  order  that  the  knowledge  of  his 
great  discovery  might  not  be  lost  in  case  he  foundered, 
as  he  was  expecting  to  do  every  moment,  he  wrote  two 
letters,  enclosed  them  in  tin  cases  with  wax,  put  the 
cases  in  barrels,  and  then  threw  them  overboard.  There 
is  no  account  of  their  ever  having  been  picked  up,  and, 
of  course,  they  must  have  been  floating  about  till  this 
time.  I  guess  this  is  one  of  them." 

"But  the  barrel  is  full  of  liquor  of  some  kind," 
objected  one  of  the  bystanders. 

"  True,"  replied  the  middy ;  "  but  it  is  the  sea- water 
that,  in  the  course  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
has  leaked  in ;  we  shall  find  the  cake  of  wax  inside  all 
safe." 

The  carpenter  having,  at  last,  scraped  his  way  down 
to  the  head  of  the  barrel,  proceeded  to  tap  it  with  a 
gimlet.  Upon  canting  the  cask,  a  clear,  colorless  liquid 
streamed  from  the  orifice,  diffusing  around  a  grateful 
fragrance,  that  made  several  old  tars,  who  were  assist 
ing  at  the  operation,  snuff  up  the  air  with  evident  de 
light.  A  cup  was  brought  and  filled.  The  carpenter 
passing  it  to  a  midshipman,  the  midshipman  to  the  first 
lieutenant,  and  the  first  lieutenant  politely  handing  it 
on  to  the  captain,  who,  nosing  it  with  a  dignified  and 
pensive  air  for  a  moment  or  two,  touched  it  to  his  lips, 
and  handed  it  back  to  the  first  lieutenant. 


AREALPIRATE.  93 

The  first  luff  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Gin  !"  exclaimed  the  captain. 

"  Gin !"  said  the  first  luff. 

"Very  good!"  said  the  captain. 

"  Devilish  good !"  responded  the  first  luff. 

At  this  moment  the  officer  of  the  deck  interposed  to 
cut  short  the  rising  discussion.  "That  ship,"  said  he, 
"  to  leeward,  is  acting  in  a  queer  kind  of  way.  Since 
she  was  reported,  about  half  an  hour  ago,  she  has  al 
tered  her  course,  and  is  heading  up  for  us  as  close  as 
she  can  lie.  She  has  signals  flying,  that  I  can  make 
nothing  of,  at  her  fore  and  main-masts ;  but  I  can't  tell 
whether  she  has  a  flag  at  her  peak  or  not.  I  suppose 
she  wishes  to  speak  us." 

"  Well,  sir,  square  away,  and  give  her  a  chance  to 
do  so,"  replied  the  captain. 

The  attention  of  all  the  idlers  was,  by  this  order,  di 
rected  to  the  advancing  ship;  and  upon  looking  round 
again  for  the  first  object  of  interest — the  barrel  of  gin 
— it  had  most  mysteriously  disappeared.  There  was  a 
rumor  current  throughout  the  ship  during  the  day,  that  the 
barrel  had  been  seen  on  its  way  to  the  captain's  store 
room;  but  an  extra  glass  of  common  ship's  whiskey, 
given,  ostensibly,  in  honor  of  the  Fourth,  but  in  reality, 
as  Jack  suggested,  by  way  of  commutation  for  his  share 
of  the  prize,  was  all  that  was  ever  heard  of  that  cask 
of  well-seasoned  Hollands. 


94  ROMANCEDUST. 

The  stranger  having  backed  his  main  top-sail  under 
our  lee-quarter,  announced,  in  answer  to  our  hail — that 
he  was  an  Englishman — a  hundred  and  ten  days  from 
Sydney,  in  New  South  Wales,  and  that  the  day  before 
he  had  been  boarded  by  pirates. 

At  the  bare  mention  of  the  word  pirate,  there  was 
as  strong  a  sensation  throughout  the  ship — from  knight- 
heads  to  taffrail — as  ever  ran  through  a  New- York  draw 
ing-room  upon  the  announcement  of  an  English  lord  or 
a  mustachoed  French  marquise.  One  of  the  quarter 
boats  was  at  once  lowered  away,  manned,  and  the  first 
lieutenant  placing  himself  in  the  stern-sheets,  pushed 
off,  and  was  soon  on  board  the  stranger.  We  had  no 
thing  to  do  but  to  await  his  return.  In  the  meantime 
speculation  was  rife  as  to  the  circumstances  of  the  pi 
racy,  and  the  probable  whereabouts  of  the  freebooters. 

The  report  of  the  lieutenant,  upon  his  return,  was  to 
the  effect  that  the  Englishman  had  been  boarded  early 
in  the  forenoon  of  the  day  before,  by  a  boat  from  a 
clipper-built  brig,  after  having  been  summoned  to  heave 
to  by  a  shot  from  a  long  gun  amidships.  The  brig 
showed  no  flag,  but  appeared  to  be  well-manned  with 
a  Spanish-looking  set  of  fellows,  in  red  caps  and  blue 
woollen  shirts ;  and  in  addition  to  the  first  gun,  she  car 
ried  three  or  four  carronades  on  a  side.  Upon  coming 
on  board,  the  boat's  crew  at  once  set  about  plundering 
the  ship,  apparently  seeking  only  such  articles  as  they 


AREALPIRATE.  95 

could  use  on  the  brig.  In  fact,  the  officer  of  the  boat 
announced,  in  the  politest  manner,  and  in  broken  Eng 
lish,  to  the  terrified  passengers  and  crew,  that  his  craft 
was  merely  short  of  sea-stores,  and  that  he  should  sim 
ply  help  himself  to  such  things  as  he  stood  in  need  of. 
How  much  of  this  forbearance  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
he  knew  there  was  hardly  a  possibility  of  there  being 
any  specie  on  board,  and  that  the  cargo  was  bulky,  and 
of  but  little  value,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Having 
helped  themselves  to  a  new  fore  top-sail,  several  bales 
of  canvass  and  rope,  three  or  four  barrels  of  pork  and 
biscuit,  and  sundry  articles  from  the  tool-chest  and  stew 
ard's  pantry,  the  pirates  quietly  got  into  their  boats, 
and  went  off  to  their  brig,  which,  without  further  no 
tice,  filled  her  main  top-sail,  and  stood  off  to  the  south 
east. 

A  long  passage  had  already  greatly  reduced  the 
Englishman's  stock  of  provisions,  and  the  pirate's  exac 
tions  left  him  with  barely  ten  days'  supply,  even  after 
putting  all  hands  upon  the  shortest  possible  allowance. 
It  was  this  that  had  made  him  so  anxious  to  speak  us. 
Supplying  him  with  beef  and  bread  enough  to  last  him 
for  the  remainder  of  his  voyage,  we  bade  him  good-bye, 
and  hauling  our  wind,  stood  upon  the  track  of  the  pirate. 

Not  a  sail  showed  itself  the  rest  of  the  day,  although 
some  two  hundred  pairs  of  eyes  were  kept  on  the 
stretch;  and  provoking  enough  it  was,  when  to  a  dead 


96  ROMANCEDUST. 

certainty  there  was  a  pirate  within  a  hundred  miles  of 
us.  The  next  morning,  however,  we  were  gratified  with 
the  sight  of  a  set  of  topgallant  sails ;  but  unfortunately 
then  there  were  three  of  them,  whilst  the  gentleman 
we  were  after  carried  but  two,  his  vessel  being  a  brig. 
It  was  thought,  however,  best  to  overhaul  the  ship  in 
sight,  and  inquire  if  she  had  seen  anything  of  the  free 
booter  whose  acquaintance  we  were  so  anxious  to  make. 
To  do  this  it  was  necessary  to  haul  up  a  little,  as  the 
ship  was  to  windward ;  but  to  our  surprise  it  was  soon 
perceived  that  the  stranger  had  followed  our  example, 
and  braced  up  too.  A  still  sharper  pull  on  our  lee 
braces  produced  a  corresponding  change  in  the  stran 
ger's  course ;  and  it  was  evident  that,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  he  was  indisposed  to  speak  us.  It  would  never 
do  for  a  crack  corvette  to  give  it  up  so ;  and  with  every 
thing  set,  alow  and  aloft,  and  bowlines  hauled  taut,  we 
commenced  a  regular  chase.  At  length  we  got  near 
enough  to  send  a  shot  dancing  along  on  the  water  ahead 
of  him,  when  he  at  once  put  his  helm  up  and  came 
down  under  our  stern.  She  proved  to  be  a  beautiful 
Portuguese  clipper-looking  craft,  with  unmistakeable  to 
kens  of  the  slaver  in  every  line  of  her  finely-moulded 
hull,  and  in  the  spread  of  her  square  yards  and  taunt 
tapering  topmasts.  However,  we  had  nothing  to  say  to 
her  or  her  business,  and  as  she  had  seen  nothing  of  the 
pirate,  we  filled  away  for  Fayal,  upon  the  suggestion 


AREALPIRATE.  97 

of  the  first  luff.  "Who  knows,"  says  he,  "but  that 
the  fellow  has  gone  into  Fayal — it  is  close  by,  and  as 
he  appears  to  have  been  short  of  grub,  he  has,  perhaps, 
put  in  there  for  potatoes  and  onions.  As  to  the  onions, 
I'm  sure  he  couldn't  do  better ;  for  the  Fayal  onions 
are  almost  equal  to  those  of  Madeira,  and  the  Madeira 
onions  are  famous  the  world  over." 

We  came  to  anchor  in  the  roadstead  of  Orta,  amid 
a  fleet  of  Yankee  whale  ships,  who  were  laying  in  their 
stores  of  vegetables  and  fruits;  but  no  pirate  was  to  be 
seen. 

Orta,  with  its  whitewashed  buildings,  looks  pleasant 
enough  from  the  sea ;  but  as  soon  as  you  set  foot  on 
shore  you  find  yourself  in  a  little  filthy  dilapidated 
town.  The  streets,  perhaps,  are  not  so  disgustingly 
dirty  as  those  of  New- York ;  but  "they  are  very  nar 
row,  and  the  houses  are  old  and  mean.  On  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  roadstead  rises  the  beautiful  Peak  of 
Pico ;  its  top  covered  with  snow,  and  enveloped  in 
fantastic  and  ever-varying  clouds,  and  with  its  steep 
sides  clothed  with  vineyards — from  whence  come  the 
Pico  wine  of  the  New- York  market,  which  is  not  unfre- 
quently  sold  as  Madeira. 

There  was  no  pirate ;  but  as  the  first  luff  had  pro 
mised  us  there  were  plenty  of  onions,  "mild  as  new 
milk,  and  big  as  your  hat,"  of  which,  with  other  fruits, 
we  laid  in  a  good  store,  inasmuch  as  it  was  whispered 

5 


98  ROMANCE      DUST. 

that  we  were  going  to  run  by  Madeira  without  stop 
ping  at  Funchal  until  our  return. 

Ten  days  from  that  time  and  we  were  becalmed, 
right  under  the  famous  Peak  of  Teneriffe.  By  this  the 
excitement  about  the  pirate  had  died  away  ;  the  fellow 
had  slipped  off — not  only  out  of  the  sight  of  the  sharp 
eyes  at  our  fore-topmast  cross-trees,  but  apparently  out 
of  the  minds  of  the  loungers  on  the  quarter-deck  ;  and 
the  conversation  for  the  time  flowed  in  two  pretty  near 
ly  equal  streams — one  an  abuse  of  the  calm,  and  the 
other  a  laudation  of  the  majestic  Peak.  Pour  passer  le 
temps,  the  deep  sea  lead  was  got  overboard,  but  there 
was  no  bottom  at  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  fathoms. 
If  the  ocean  ever  dries  up,  so  that  the  Peak  of  Tene 
riffe  can  be  viewed  from  the  present  bottom  of  the 
surrounding  sea,  it  will  unquestionably  be  thought  to 
be  the  most  astonishing  mountain  in  the  world. 

Every  thing  must  have  an  end,  even  a  calm  in  sum 
mer  among  the  Canaries ;  and  at  last  a  gentle  breeze 
and  a  favorable  current  set  us  around  the  island  to  the 
roadstead  of  Santa  Cruz.  There  was  quite  a  display  of 
shipping  at  anchor,  and  the  city  looked  really  enchant 
ing  with  its  yellow  and  whitewashed  buildings  stretch 
ing  along  the  foot  of  the  craggy  mountain.  But  it 
must  be  recollected  that  this  was  my  first  visit,  and  I 
had  no  idea  of  what  a  hot  and  disagreeable  hole  the 
chief  town  of  Teneriffe  really  is. 


A     REAL     PIRATE.  99 

"  What  a  fine  town,"  I  exclaimed,  as  our  gallant 
vessel  was  slowly  creeping  before  the  first  light  puffs 
of  the  sea-breeze  into  her  anchorage. 

"  Fine  town,  indeed !"  exclaimed  the  surgeon,  who 
had  had  some  experience  of  the  place -in  a  former  visit; 
"a  fine  town  for  lazy  priests,  beggars,  and  fleas." 

"  That's  true,"  interrupted  the  purser ;  "  but  I  don't 
know  that  is  any  especial  reproach  to  Santa  Cruz.  You 
may  say  it  of  almost  any  Spanish  town  that  I  have 
ever  tyid  the  luck  to  visit." 

And  this  is  the  land  that  was  once  peopled  by  the 
Guanchos ;  and  it  is  the  caverns  of  those  precipitous 
rocks  that  are  said  still  to  hold  their  mummyfied  re 
mains.  Mysterious  people !  who,  it  is  said,  reversing 
the  usual  order  of  things,  allowed  every  woman  two 
or  more  husbands.  What  an  argument  for  Fourierism 
— not  as  bearing  on  the  merits  of  that  much  talked 
of  system,  but  as  showing  its  possibility — as  proving 
that  in  the  social  state  there  is  nothing,  however  ab 
surd  or  contrary  to  our  reason  or  our  prejudices,  that 
may  not,  under  certain  circumstances,  be  done.  And 
there  are  the  very  batteries,  a  shot  from  which,  if  I 
recollect  aright,  took  off  Nelson's  arm  one  night,  when 
he  was  out  on  boat  service;  and  there,  far  away  up 
the  dark  ravines  stretch  the  vineyards  that  produce 
some  of  the  finest  wine  in  the  world :  albeit,  the  name 
Teneriffe  has  come  to  signify  in  the  American  market 


100  ROMANCE     DUST. 

everything    that     is     abominable    in    the    vinous    way. 

My  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the  rattle  of  the 
chain  cable,  as  the  anchor  dropped  from  the  bows. 
A  boat  was  soon  alongside  with  several  dark-looking 
officials,  in  dingy  gold  lace,  who  proved  to  be  health 
officers.  Pratique  was  at  once  granted,  and  we  had 
permission  to  communicate  with  the  shore.  In  a  man- 
of-war,  coming  from  a  healthy  port,  there  is  never  much 
trouble  with  the  quarantine ;  but  in  a  merchant  ship, 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  nothing  can  be  more  vexatious. 
Of  all  the  modes  of  annoying  a  quiet  voyageur,  in 
cluding  custom-house  regulations,  passports,  &c.  there  is 
nothing  to  equal  the  miserable,  useless,  and  barbarous 
quarantine  laws  of  about  half  the  ports  in  the  globe. 

Our  anchor  was  hardly  down,  and  pratique  obtained, 
when  the  captain's  boat  was  ordered  to  be  manned.  It 
was  decidedly  uncommon  and  infra  dig.  for  the  skipper  to 
hurry  ashore  in  the  first  boat ;  and  a  good  deal  of  con 
jecture  was  wasted  as  to  what  the  old  fellow  had  in 
his  eye.  The  most  reasonable  supposition  was,  that  he 
wanted  to  get  the  weather-guage  of  his  middies  with 
the  black-eyed  senoritas  of  Santa  Cruz — a  supposition 
that  gained  in  strength  when  it  was  found  that  the 
first  lieutenant  had  so  much  work  for  the  men  that 
no  boat  could  go  ashore  for  two  or  three  hours.  There 
was  evidently  collusion  between  the  two  oldest  offi 
cers  of  the  ship. 


A      REAL     PIRATE.  101 

In  about  an  hour's  time  ?,  largo  •  boat,  w'tfi  two 
or  three  soldiers  in  the  bow,  and  a  couple  of  officers 
in  the  stern-sheets,  came  alongside.  Upon  being  piped 
over  with  all  honors,  the  elder  of  the  two  officers  ad 
vanced  to  the  first  lieutenant,  and  presented  to  him  a 
note.  The  lieutenant  glanced  his  eye  over  it,  and  then 
politely  led  the  way  into  the  captain's  cabin. 

If  conjecture  was  a  little  excited  and  wild  before, 
it  was  now  stark,  staring  mad.  What  could  it  all 
mean?  And  that  last  move  of  the  first  lieutenant — 
taking  the  Spaniards  so  suddenly  into  a  secret  consul 
tation  in  the  cabin ! — that  was  a  puzzler. 

"  Pshaw !"  observed  one  ;  "  that  is  only  because  he 
don't  like  to  uncoil  his  Spanish  here  before  us  all, 
on  the  quarter-deck." 

"  Don't  you  believe  that,"  replied  another ;  "  if 
there  is  anything  the  first  lieutenant  is  proud  of,  it  is 
his  Spanish ;  and  he'd  uncoil  it,  fake  after  fake,  on  the 
quarter-deck  of  an  admiral." 

Conjecture  was  busy,  as  I  have  said,  when  the  lieu 
tenant  opened  the  cabin  door,  and  threw  on  fresh  fuel 
by  ordering  a  boat  to  be  manned.  As  soon  as  it  was 
ready  he  descended  to  the  stern  sheets.  The  Spanish 
officers  took  their  places  in  their  own  boat,  and  both 
shoved  off,  but  not  in  the  direction  of  the  landing. 

We  watched  them  as  they  wended  their  way  among 
the  shipping,  until  they  brought  up  alongside  a  small, 


1-02 


-  Ii  U  M  A  N  C  E     DUST. 


rakish-looking'  brig.  -  'Their  arrival  seemed  to  produce 
some  excitement  among  her  red-capped  crew,  who,  we 
could  see  with  our  glasses,  were  at  once  mustered  aft 
in  presence  of  the  lieutenant  and  the  Spanish  officials, 
while  our  boat's  crew  were  observed  to  ascend  the 
rigging,  and  casting  off  the  gaskets,  let  the  sails  drop 
from  the  yards. 

"  The  pirate  !"  exclaimed  a  half  dozen  of  voices ; 
and  there  she  lay  as  plain  as  the  day;  there  could  be 
no  doubt  of  it ;  the  brig  was  unquestionably  the  free 
booter  of  the  Azores.  All  agreed  that  she  had  a  won 
derfully  piratical  air,  but  it  was  a  little  curious  that  it 
had  taken  the  eye  of  our  astute  old  skipper  to  first 
discover  it. 

And  thus  was  explained  the  reason  of  his  hurry  to 
get  ashore  before  anything  could  leak  out,  as  to  our 
knowledge,  that  a  piracy  had  been  committed.  Upon 
landing  he  had  at  once  an  audience  with  the  Governor 
General,  and  communicated  to  him  his  suspicion  of  the 
brig,  which  had  come  to  anchor  the  evening  before,  and 
which  had  yet  had  no  communication  with  the  shore. 
The  consequence  was,  an  order  to  our  first  lieutenant 
to  accompany  the  captain  of  the  port  on  a  visit  to  the 
suspected  craft. 

Upon  loosing  the  sails,  there  hung  the  identical  fore 
topsail,  with  all  its  marks,  as  described  by  the  Eng 
lish  captain ;  the  bales  of  canvass  and  rope,  with  the 


A     REAL      PIRATE.  103 

names  of  the  Sidney  makers ;  and  the  barrels  of  beef 
and  pork,  with  their  English  brands. 

"But  what  will  be  done  with  him1?"  we  demanded 
of  the  lieutenant,  upon  his  return  from  the  execution 
of  his  orders ;  "  will  they  hang  him  ?"  "  Hang  him  ! 
not  a  bit  of  it;  but  they'll  serve  him  almost  as  badly 
as  if  they  did.  He  proves  to  be  a  rich  fellow  from  the 
neighboring  island  of  Grand  Canary,  who  has  for  a  long 
time  been  engaged  in  the  slave  trade.  He  has  got 
money,  and  that  will  save  his  neck;  but  they'll  strip 
him  just  as  clean  as  they  are  now  going  to  strip  his 
brig ;"  and  the  lieutenant  pointed  to  a  score  of  red- 
capped  sailors,  who  were  busily  engaged  in  unbending 
the  brig's  sails  and  sending  down  her  spars. 

The  fleet  clipper,  that  for  years  had  eluded  the 
English  cruizers  off  the  African  coast,  had  at  last  fallen 
into  the  clutches  of  the  half-starved  officials  of  Santa 
Cruz.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  her  fate;  she  would 
be  condemned  ;  while  her  captain,  after  being  put 
through  the  squeezing  processes  of  the  Spanish  courts, 
would  be  turned  loose  to  commence  again,  if  he  could 
muster  the  capital,  his  trade  of  slaver  and  pirate. 

"  Pity  we  could  not  have  overhauled  him  before 
he  came  to  anchor,"  exclaimed  the  captain. 

"  And  have  sent  him  to  the  United  States,"  replied 
the  first- lieutenant,  "where  he  would  have  been  at  once 
discharged — an  indignation  meeting  got  up  in  his  favor 


104 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


— and  ourselves  served  with  writs  for  damages." 
"  Never !"  replied  the  captain—"  I  would  blow  him 
out  of  the  water  sooner.  No — I  would  have  taken 
him  into  Gibraltar,  and  given  him  up  to  the  authori 
ties  there.  Gibraltar  is  not  much  of  a  town  for  sym 
pathy  ;  but  then  there  is  plenty  of  law  and  justice  for 
such  cases." 


THE 


ASTONISHING    ADVENTURE 


OF 


JAMES  BOTELLO. 


To  an  author  who  has  been  accustomed  to  'deal 
with  the  startling  and  the  marvellous  in  the  way  of 
incident  and  adventure,  nothing  can  be  more  amusing 
than  the  confident  opinions  of  critics  and  readers  as  to 
the  improbability,  and  frequently  the  impossibility,  of 
particular  scenes,  which  often  happen  to  be  faithful  de 
scriptions  of  actual  occurrences.  In  this  manner  seve 
ral  passages  from  "  Kaloolah "  and  "  The  Berber "  have 
been  indicated  by  some  of  my  many  good  natured  and 
liberal  critics  in  this  country  and  in  England,  as  taxing 
a  little  too  strongly  the  credulity  of  readers.  Among 
such  passages,  the  escape,  in  the  first  pages  of  the 
'Berber,  of  the  young  Englishman,  by  jumping  over 
board  in  the  bay  of  Cadiz,  and  hiding  himself  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  beneath  the  overhanging  stem  of 
his  boat,  has  been  particularly  pointed  out.  Now,  if 
this  was  pure  invention,  it  might  be  safely  left  to  a 
jury  of  Yankee  boatmen  or  Spanish  barqueros  to  decide 


106  ROMANCE     DUST. 

whether  the  incident  was  not  in  the  highest  degree  pro 
bable  and  natural ;  but  being  literally  founded  in  fact, 
it  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  make  any  such  appeal. 
There  may  be,  however,  a  few  unadventurous  souls  who 
will  still  persist  in  their  doubts  as  to  the  probability 
of  the  incident.  For  the  especial  benefit  of  such  I  will 
relate  the  true  story  of  a  boat  adventure,  which  in  every 
way  is  a  thousand  times  more  strange  and  incredible 
than  any  of  the  wildest  inventions  of  the  wildest  ro 
mance. 

The  voyage  of  Vasco  di  Gama  around  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  into  the  Indian  Ocean  was  the  beginning  of 
a  complete  revolution  in  the  trade  of  Europe  and  the 
East.  This  trade,  which,  following  the  expensive  route 
of  Egypt  and  the  Red  Sea,  had  been  for  a  long  time  in 
the  hands  of  the  Venetians  and  Genoese,  suddenly  turned 
itself  into  the  new  and  cheap  channel  opened  by  the 
enterprize  of  the  Portuguese.  The  merchants  of  Genoa 
and  Venice  found  themselves  unexpectedly  cut  off  from 
their  accustomed  sources  of  wealth,  while  a  tide  of  af 
fluence  rolled  into  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus,  and  Lisbon 
became  the  commercial  mart  of  the  world. 

The  success  of  the  Portuguese  gave  a  new  impulse  to 
the  spirit  of  enterprise  which  had  already  been  excited 
among  the  maratime  nations  of  Europe  by  the  disco 
veries  of  Columbus,  and  efforts  to  divert  a  portion  of 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  107 

the  golden  current  soon  began  to  be  made.  The  Spa 
niards  debarred  from  following  the  direct  route  of  the 
Portuguese  by  their  own  exclusive  pretensions  in  the 
west,  and  the  consequent  decision  of  the  Pope,  granting 
to  them  the  sole  right  of  exploration  beyond  a  certain 
line  of  longitude  to  the  west,  and  confining  the  Portu 
guese  to  the  east,  had,  under  the  guidance  of  the  ad 
venturous  Magellan,  found  a  westerly  route  to  the  In 
dies.  The  English  were  busy  with  several  schemes  for 
a  short  cut  to  the  northwest.  The  Dutch  were  begin 
ning  to  give  signs  of  a  determination,  despite  the  Pope's 
decision,  to  follow  the  route  by  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope.  As  may  be  imagined,  these  movements  aroused 
the  jealousy  of  the  court  and  merchants  of  Lisbon. 
They  trembled  least  their  commercial  monopoly  should 
be  encroached  upon,  and  every  care  was  taken  to  keep 
the  rest  of  Europe  in  ignorance  of  the  details  of  the 
trade,  and  of  the  discoveries  and  conquests  of  their 
agents  in  the  East. 

Of  course  nothing  could  be  more  injurious  to  a  Por 
tuguese  of  the  time  than  to  be  suspected  of  a  design 
to  aid  with  advice  or  information  the  schemes  of  fo 
reign  rivals.  Unluckily  for  James  Botello  such  a  sus 
picion  lighted  upon  him.  It  was  rumored  that  he  was 
disposed  to  sell  his  services  to  the  French.  He  was 
known  to  be  a  gentleman  of  parts,  well  acquainted  with 
the  East — having  served  with  credit  under  the  imme- 


108  BOMANCE     DUST. 

^ 

diate  successors  of  Vasco  de  Gama — and  as  competent 
as  any  one  to  lead  the  Frenchman  into  the  Indian  Ocean, 
and  to  initiate  him  into  the  mysteries  of  the  trade.  The 
suspicion,  however,  could  not  have  been  very  strong, 
and  probably  had  no  real  foundation  in  truth,  or  else 
more  stringent  measures  than  appears  to  have  been  used 
would  have  been  adopted  by  an  unscrupulous  court  to 
prevent  his  carrying  his  designs  into  execution.  The 
rumor,  however,  had  its  effect;  and  Botello  soon  found 
that  his  influence  at  court  was  gone,  and  that  he  had 
become  an  object  of  jealous  observation. 

Anxious  to  give  the  lie  to  this  calumny,  and  to  re 
gain  the  favor  of  his  sovereign,  John  III,  Botello  em 
barked  as  a  volunteer  in  the  fleet  which  was  taking  out 
to  Calicut,  the  new  viceroy,  De  Cunna.  Upon  the  ar 
rival  of  this  fleet,  the  operations  of  the  Portuguese,  both 
military  and  commercial,  were  carried  on  with  renewed 
vigor;  and  in  all  these  Botello  bore  his  part,  but  with 
out  being  able  wholly  to  remove  the  suspicions  with 
which  he  was  sensible  his  actions  were  still  watched 
by  his  superiors. 

A  favorite  project  of  the  Portuguese—one  that  had 
been  pursued  with  energy  and  by  every  means  of  di 
plomacy  or  war— was  the  establishment  of  a  fort  in 
Diu,  a  town  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  Cam- 
baya.  Several  times  the  capture  of  the  place  had  been 
attempted  by  force,  but  without  success.  Even  the 


•      ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  109 

great  Albuquerque  had  been  foiled  in  a  furious  attack. 
Failing  in  this,  the  Portuguese  repeatedly  endeavored 
to  get  permission  to  erect  a  fort  for  the  protection  of 
their  trade,  by  persuasion  or  artifice.  It  had  become 
an  object  of  the  most  ardent  desire,  as  well  with  the 
king  and  court  at  home,  as  with  the  viceroys  and  their 
officers  in  the  East. 

It  happened  now  in  the  year  1534,  that  Badur,  king 
of  Cambaya,  was  sorely  pressed  by  his  enemy  the  Great 
Mogul — so  much  so,  that  he  was  compelled  to  call  in 
the  assistance  of  his  other  enemy,  the  Portuguese.  The 
price  of  this  assistance  was  to  be  permission  to  erect 
and  garrison  a  fort  at  Diu.  Badur  hesitated ;  he  knew 
that  if  the  Portuguese  were  allowed  a  fort,  they  would 
soon  be  masters  of  the  whole  town ;  but  his  necessities 
were  urgent,  and  he  finally  acceded  to  the  demand.  De 
Cunna  rushed  to  Diu ;  a  treaty  was  speedily  concluded 
with  Badur — the  fort  was  planned,  and  its  erection 
commenced  with  vigor. 

No  one  better  than  Botello  knew  how  pleased  King 
John  would  be  with  the  news.  He  resolved  to  be  the 
bearer  of  the  good  tidings,  and  thus  to  restore  himself 
to  the  royal  favor.  His  plan  was  a  bold  and  daring 
one ;  in  fact,  considering  the  known  dangers  of  the  sea, 
and  the  then  imperfect  state  of  navigation,  it  must  have 
seemed  almost  hopeless  ;  but  he  suffered  no  doubts  or 
apprehensions  to  prevent  him  from  carrying  it  into  im- 


110  ROMANCE     DUST. 

mediate  effect.  In  order  to  conceal  his  design,  he  gave 
out  that  he  was  going  on  a  boat  excursion  up  the  Gulf 
of  Cambaya,  to  visit  the  court  of  the  now  friendly  Ba- 
dur.  Two  young  soldiers,  of  inferior  degree,  named 
Juan  de  Sousa  and  Alfonzo  Belem,  readily  consented 
to  accompany  him.  The  boat  selected  for  the  voyage 
was  a  small  affair — something  like  a  modern  jolly  boat, 
though  of  rather  greater  beam  in  proportion  to  its  other 
dimensions ;  its  length  was  sixteen  feet,  its  breadth  nine 
feet.  Four  Moorish  slaves  from  Melenda,  on  the  coast 
of  Africa,  were  selected  to  work  the  boat,  while  two 
native  servants,  having  Portuguese  blood  in  their  veins, 
completed  the  crew. 

Botello's  preparations  for  the  voyage  were  soon  made; 
and  waiting  only  to  secure  a  copy  of  the  treaty  with 
Badur,  and  plans  of  the  fort  which  had  been  commenced, 
he  ordered  the  short  mast,  with  its  tapering  lateen  yard, 
to  be  raised,  and  the  sail  trimmed  close  to  the  breeze 
blowing  into  the  roadstead  of  Diu.  But  instead  of  turn 
ing  up  along  the  northern  coast  of  the  Gulf  of  Cam 
baya,  he  directed  the  bow  of  his  little  bark  boldly  out 
to  sea. 

His  companions  knew  but  little  of  navigation ;  but 
they  knew  enough  to  know  that  a  south-westerly  course 
was  hardly  the  one  on  which  to  reach  Cambaya.  To 
the  remonstrances  of  Juan  and  Alfonzo,  Botello  simply 
replied  that  he  preferred  sailing  south  with  the  wind,  to 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  Ill 

rowing  north  against  it;  and  they  would  find  the  course 
he  had  chosen  the  safest  and  shortest  in  the  end. 

In  this  way  they  sailed  for  three  days.  On  the  morn 
ing  of  the  fourth  Botello  found  that  it  would  be  impos 
sible  for  him  longer  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  mutterings 
of  discontent  among  his  crew.  It  was  high  time  for  an 
explanation  of  his  plans;  and  trusting  to  his  eloquence 
and  influence,  he  proceeded  to  unfold  his  design. 

Imagine  the  astonishment  and  dismay  depicted  in 
the  countenances  of  the  servants  and  sailors  when  he 
told  them  that  he  purposed  making  the  long  and  dan 
gerous  voyage  to  Lisbon  in  the  miserable  little  boat  in 
which  they  had  embarked.  But  as  he  went  on  com 
menting  upon  the  feasibility  of  the  project,  discussing 
the  real  dangers  of  such  voyage,  and  ridiculing  the  ima 
ginary,  and  dilating  upon  the  honors  and  rewards  which 
they  would  win  by  being  the  first  bearers  of  the  tidings 
they  carried,  a  change  from  dismay  to  hope  and  confi 
dence  took  place  in  the  minds  of  all  his  hearers,  except 
ing  the  African  sailors,  who  did  not  much  relish  the 
idea  of  so  long  a  voyage  to  Christian  lands.  They, 
however,  were  slaves  and  infidels,  and  their  opposition 
was  not  much  heeded. 

To  every  objection  Botello  had  a  plausible  reply. 
He  confidently  asserted  his  knowledge  of  a  safe  route, 
and  of  his  ability  to  preserve  their  little  craft  amid  all 
the  dangers  of  the  sea. 


112 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


"But  may  we  not  be  forstalled  in  our  news,  af 
ter  all,"  demanded  Alfonzo,  "by  the  vessels  from  Ca 
licut  r 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  replied  Botello.  "  The  news 
from  Diu  will  not  reach  Calicut  for  a  month,  and  then 
it  will  be  too  late  in  the  monsoon  to  despatch  a  ves 
sel,  even  if  one  were  ready.  Besides,  I  have  certain 
information  that  the  viceroy  has  determined  that  no  dis 
patches  shall  be  sent  home  until  he  can  announce  the 
completion  of  the  fort." 

"  I  like  not  this  new  route  you  propose,"  said  Juan. 
"Why  leave  the  usual  course  to  Melenda?" 

"Because  we  should  be  in  danger  of  exciting  the 
suspicions  of  our  brethren  who  now  garrison  the  forts 
of  Melenda,  Zanzabar,  and  Mozambique,  and  perhaps  be 
detained.  No,  we  will  take  a  more  direct  course—strike 
the  coast  of  Africa  below  Sofalo,  and  then  follow  the 
shore  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope." 

"And  what  are  we  to  do  for  provisions  and  water, 
in  the  meantime  1" 

"  Of  provisions  we  have  a  store  that  will  last  until 
we  reach  land,  when  we  can  obtain  supplies  from  the 
natives;  as  to  water,  we  must  go  at  once  upon  the 
shortest  possible  allowance,  and  daily  pray  for  rain— St. 
Francis  will  aid  us.  I  can  show  you  something  that 
will  set  your  minds  at  ease  upon  that  point." 

Botello  produced  a  box  from  beneath  the  stern  sheets, 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  113 

and  opening  it,  took  out  with  an  air  of  reverence  a  leaden 
image  of  the  saint. 

"  See  this,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  exultation. 
"  It  was  modelled  from  the  portrait  recognised  by  the 
aged  Moor.  Have  you  not  heard  of  the  miracle  ? — true, 
you  were  not  at  Calicut,  Know,  then,  that  a  few  months 
since,  a  native  of  India  was  presented  to  the  viceroy, 
whose  reputed  age  amounted  to  three  hundred  years. 
His  story  was,  that  in  early  youth  he  encountered  an 
aged  man  lingering  upon  the  banks  of  a  stream  which 
he  was  anxious  to  pass.  The  youth  tendered  the  sup 
port  of  his  strong  shoulders,  and  bore  him  across  the 
water.  As  a  reward  for  the  service,  the  old  man  bade 
the  youth  to  live  until  they  should  meet  again.  And 
thus  had  he  lived,  until  a  few  months  since  he  was  pre 
sented  to  De  Cunna,  when  he  at  once  recognised  in  a 
portrait  of  St.  Francis  the  holy  man  whom  he  had 
carried  across  the  stream.  This  image  was  modelled 
from  that  portrait ;  it  was  blessed  by  the  pious  con 
vert  in  whose  person  was  performed  the  miracle.  Our 
voyage  must  be  prosperous  with  this  on  board." 

The  sight  of  an  image  taken  from  a  portrait  ac 
knowledged  to  be  the  saint  himself,  removed  all  doubt. 
And  what  Botello's  arguments  and  persuasions  might 
have  failed  to  accomplish,  was  easily  effected  by  the 
little  image  of  lead.  A  heretic  might,  perhaps,  have 
questioned  the  saint's  power  over  the  physical  pheno- 


114  ROMANCE     DUST. 

mena  of  the  sea,  but  he  could  not  have  denied  his  moral 
influence  over  the  minds  of  the  adventurous  voyagdurs 
who  confided  in  him.  No  hesitation  remained,  except 
in  the  minds  of  the  four  slaves,  who,  having  been  forci 
bly  converted  from  the  errors  of  Mohammed,  were  yet 
somewhat  weak  in  the  true  faith. 

It  was  this  want  of  faith  that  led  to  one  of  the  most 
lamentable  events  of  the  voyage.  They  had  been  out 
more  than  a  month  without  having  had  sight  of  land, 
and  not  even  a  distant  sail  had  lighted  up  the  dismal 
loneliness  of  the  ocean.  It  must  be  recollected  what  a 
solitude  was  the  vast  surface  of  the  Indian  and  Pacific 
seas  in  those  days.  Besides,  the  Portuguese  fleets  that 
followed  each  other  at  long  and  regular  intervals,  Chris 
tian  commerce  there  was  none,  while  Arabian  trade  was 
small  in  amount,  and  confined  to  certain  narrow  chan 
nels.  The  Moorish  slaves  had  never  before  been  so 
long  in  the  open  sea,  and  their  fears  increased  as  day 
after  day  the  little  boat  bore  them  farther  to  the  south. 
The  provisions  were  also,  by  this  time,  nearly  exhausted, 
and  the  daily  allowance  of  water  proved  barely  suffi 
cient  to  moisten  their  parched  lips.  The  slaves,  after 
taking  council  among  themselves,  demanded  that  the 
course  of  the  boat  should  be  arrested. 

"  And  which  way  would  you  go  f  asked  Botello. 
"  Back  to  Diu  ?  It  would  take  three  months  to  reach 
the  port,  and  long  ere  that  we  should  starve." 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  115 

"  Let  us  steer,  then,  directly  for  the  African  coast. 
Melenda  must  be  our  nearest  port." 

"Never!"  returned  the  resolute  Botello.  "I  will 
run  no  risk  of  having  our  voyage  frustrated  by  the  jea 
lousy  of  my  old  enemy,  Alfonzo  Peristrello,  who  has 
command  at  that  station.  Courage  for  a  few  days  more, 
and  we  shall  see  land.  There  are  isles  hereaway  that 
you  will  deem  fit  residences  for  the  blessed  saints — 
such  fruits  !  such  flowers  !" 

The  promises  of  Botello  had  influence  with  all  of  his 
companions  excepting  the  Moors,  whose  muttered  dis 
content  suddenly  assumed  a  fierce  and  menacing  as 
pect.  Luckily,  Botello  was  as  wary  as  he  was  brave. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  night  that,  stretched  upon 
the  midship  thwart  of  the  boat,  he  noticed  a  movement 
among  the  Moors,  who  occupied  the  bow.  One  of  them 
moved  stealthily  towards  him,  and  bending  over  him, 
cautiously  sought  the  hilt  of  his  dagger;  but  before  he 
could  draw  it,  the  grasp  of  Botello  was  upon  his  throat, 
and  he  was  hurled  to  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  With 
a  shout,  the  other  Moors  seized  the  boat-hooks  and 
stretchers,  and  rushed  upon  Botello :  but  Juan  and 
Alfonzo  were  upon  the  alert,  and,  drawing  their  long 
daggers,  rushed  to  his  defence.  Never  was  there  a  more 
desperate  conflict  than  on  that  starlit  night,  in  that 
frail  boat,  that  floated  a  feeble,  solitary  speck  of  hu 
manity  on  the  bosom  of  the  vast  Indian  sea. 


116  ROMANCE     DUST. 

The  conflict  was  desperate,  but  it  was  soon  over. 
The  Portuguese  of  those  days  were  other  men  than 
their  degenerate  descendants  of  the  present  age;  and, 
besides,  the  slaves  were  overmatched  both  in  arms  and 
numbers.  Three  were  slain  outright,  and  the  fourth 
driven  overboard.  One  of  the  Portuguese  servants  was 
killed;  thus  diminishing  the  number  of  the  voyageurs 
more  than  one  half — a  lucky  circumstance,  without 
which,  most  probably,  the  whole  would  have  perished. 

For  a  week  longer  the  little  bark  stood  on  its  course, 
when  a  violent  storm  threatened  a  melancholy  termina 
tion  to  the  voyage.  The  wind,  however,  was  accompa 
nied  by  rain,  and  Botello  kept  up  the  spirits  of  his 
friends  by  attributing  the  storm  to  St.  Francis,  who 
had  sent  it  expressly  to  save  them  from  dying  by  thirst. 
It  would  have  been  perhaps  more  easy  to  believe  in 
the  saint's  agency  in  the  matter  had  there  been  less 
wind ;  for  in  addition  to  the  danger  of  being  engulfed 
by  the  heavy  sea,  their  clothing,  which  they  spread 
to  collect  the  rain,  was  so  deluged  with  salt  spray  as 
to  make  the  water  exceedingly  brackish.  Bad  as  it  was, 
however,  it  served  to  maintain  life  until  they  reached 
a  little  rocky,  uninhabited  island  in  the  channel  of 
Mozambique. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  a.  landing  place 
was  found.  Upon  ascending  the  rocks,  a  few  scattered 
palms  exhibited  the  only  appearance  of  vegetation. 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  117 

Their  chief  necessity — fresh  water — however,  was  found 
in  abundance,  standing  in  the  hollows  of  the  rocky  sur 
face,  where  it  had  been  deposited  by  the  recent  storm. 
Several  kinds  of  wild  fowl  showed  themselves  in  abun 
dance,  and  so  tame  as  to  suffer  themselves  to  be  caught 
without  any  trouble ;  while  crowding  the  little  sandy 
inlets  were  thousands  of  the  finest  turtle. 

At  this  spot  Botello  and  his  companions  rested  for 
a  week ;  which  was  spent  in  caulking  and  repairing  their 
boat  and  sail,  drying  and  salting  the  flesh  of  fowl  and 
turtle,  and  in  filling  every  available  vessel  with  the 
precious  fluid  so  liberally  furnished  by  their  patron,  St. 
Francis. 

A  succession  of  storms  followed  their  departure,  and 
tossed  them  about  here  and  there  for  so  many  days 
that  their  reckoning  became  exceedingly  confused.  Bo 
tello,  however,  was  an  accomplished  navigator,  and  his 
sailor  instinct  stood  him  in  good  stead.  Upon  return 
ing  fair  weather,  he  conjectured  that  he  was  abreast  of 
Cape  Corientes,  and  the  bow  of  the  boat  was  directed, 
due  east,  for  the  African  coast. 

Calms  followed  storms.  The  oars  were  got  out,  and 
day  after  day  the  clumsy  boat  was  pulled  through  the 
long  rolling  swell  of  the  glassy  sea.  Still  no  sight  of 
land.  Their  provisions  were  getting  short  again — their 
water  was  reduced  to  the  lowest  possible  allowance, 
and  the  labor  of  the  oar  was  rapidly  exhausting  their 


118  ROMANCE     DUST 

strength.  The  image  of  St.  Francis  was  hourly  ap 
pealed  to.  Sometimes  his  aid  was  implored  in  most 
humble  prayers — sometimes  demanded  with  the  wildest 
imprecations  and  threats.  One  day  Botello  seized  the 
little  St.  Francis,  and  whirling  him  on  high,  threatened 
to  throw  him  into  the  sea  unless  he  instantly  grant 
ed  a  sight  of  land;  no  land  showed  itself,  and  the 
saint  was  reverentially  replaced  in  his  box.  But  he 
was  not  to  rest  there  long  in  quiet.  The  next  day  the 
ingenious  Botello  announced  to  his  sinking  companions 
that  he  had  a  plan  to  compel  the  saint  to  terms.  The 
image  was  produced  from  its  box,  a  cord  was  fastened 
around  its  neck,  and  it  was  then  thrown  overboard. 
Down  went  his  leaden  saintship  into  the  depths  of  the 
ocean.  "  And  there  he  shall  remain,"  exclaimed  Bo 
tello,  "  until  he  sends  us  land  or  rain."  An  hour  had 
not  expired  when  a  faint  bluish  haze  in  the  eastern 
horizon  attracted  all  eyes.  A  favorable  breeze  spring 
ing  up,  the  sail  was  hoisted,  and  as  the  boat  moved 
under  its  influence  the  haze  grew  in  consistency  and 
size.  Land  was  in  sight. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  smile  with  contempt  at  the 
superstitious  faith  of  Botello  and  companions  in  the 
connexion  between  this  happy  land-fall  and  their  inge 
nious  compulsion  of  the  saint's  miraculous  power ;  but 
it  may  be  questioned  whether  there  was  not  good 
ground  for  their  belief — at  least  as  good  ground  as  there 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  119 

is  for   faith   in  any    of  the  facts  of  animal  magnetism, 
clairvoyance,  and  spiritual  rappings. 

The  land  proved  to  be  a  point  in  Lagoa  Bay — a  fa 
miliar  object  to  Botello.  Upon  going  ashore,  a  party 
of  natives  received  him,  with  whom  friendly  relations 
were  soon  established,  and  from  whom  provisions  and 
water  were  readily  obtained.  A  few  days  served  to 
recruit  the  exhausted  strength  of  the  party,  when  taking 
again  to  their  boat,  they  coasted  along  the  shore,  land 
ing  at  frequent  intervals,  until  they  reached  the  dreaded 
Cape  of  Storms,  as  the  southern  point  of  Africa  was 
called  by  its  first  discoverer,  Bartholemew  Diaz. 

The  Cape  did  not  belie  its  reputation.  From  the 
summit  of  Table  Mountain,  and  the  surrounding  high 
lands,  it  sent  down  a  gust  that  drove  the  unfortu 
nate  voyageurs  away  from  the  land  a  long  distance  to 
the  southwest;  and  many  weary  and  despairing  days 
were  past  before  they  were  able  to  make  the  harbor 
of  Saldahana.  Here  the  chief  necessity  of  life — fresh 
water — was  found  in  abundance,  and  a  supply  of  pro 
visions  obtained,  consisting  chiefly  of  the  dried  flesh  of 
seals,  with  which  the  harbor  was  filled.  A  few  orange 
and  lemon  trees,  planted  by  the  early  Portuguese  dis 
coverers,  were  loaded  with  fruit,  and  afforded  a  grateful 
and  effectual  means  of  removing  the  symptoms  of 
scurvy  which  were  beginning  to  appear. 

Saldahana    being    a    resting    place   for   the    outward 


120 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


bound  Portuguese  fleets,  Botello  made  his  stay  as  short 
as  possible,  lest  he  should  be  intercepted  and  turned 
back  by  some  newly  appointed  and  jealous  viceroy. 
For  the  same  reason  he  avoided  several  points  on  the 
coast  of  western  Africa  where  his  countrymen  had  sta 
tions—keeping  well  out  to  sea  and  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Congo,  and  steering  a  direct  course  across  the  Gulf  of 
Guinea.  He  knew  that  if  a  Portuguese  admiral  had  sailed 
at  the  appointed  time,  he  must  be  somewhere  in  that 
Gulf,  and  that  his  tall  barks  would  hug  the  shore,  creep- 
ing  from  headland  to  headland  slowly  and  cautiously. 
The  energetic  Botello  and  his  companions  had  encoun 
tered  too  many  dangers  to  be  frightened  at  the  perils 
of  a  run  across  the  Gulf,  and  the  resolution  was  adopted 
to  give  the  Portuguese  fleet,  by  the  aid  of  St.  Francis, 
the  go-by  in  the  open  sea. 

f  The  run  was  successfully  achieved;  not,  however, 
without  many  weary  days  at  the  oar,  and  many  an  ap 
peal  to  St.  Francis  for  favoring  winds,  and  for  aid  in 
the  sudden  tornados  which  frequently  threatened  to  en 
gulf  them.  Cape  de  Verd  was  reached  ;  the  barren 
shore  of  the  great  desert  was  passed,  with  but  a  single 
stoppage  in  the  Rio  del  Ouro— a  slender  arm  of  the 
sea  setting  up  a  few  miles  into  the  sands  of  Sahara. 
Here  a  few  dates  and  some  barley  cakes  were  pur 
chased  of  a  family  of  wandering  Arabs  ;  and  again 
putting  to  sea,  the  shores  of  Morocco  were  cautiously 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  121 

coasted.  Without  further  adventure,  but  not  without 
further  suffering,  and  labor,  and  danger,  the  short  remain 
ing  distance  was  passed.  The  head  of  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar — the  headlands  of  Spain — the  southern  point 
of  Algarve,  successively  came  in  sight;  and  then  the 
smiling  mouth  of  the  golden  Tagus  greeted  their  long 
ing  eyes. 

And  thus  wras  happily  finished  this  wonderful  voyage 
— a  voyage  which,  if  performed  in  the  present  day,  with 
all  the  means  and  appliances  of  navigation,  would  ex 
cite  the  admiration  of  the  world,  but  which,  under  the 
circumstances  of  the  age,  the  prejudices  and  ignorance 
of  the  voyageurs,  and  the  imperfect  state  of  maritime 
science,  may  truly  be  considered  the  most  astonishing 
upon  record.  It  must  be  observed,  too,  that  this  was 
no  involuntary  boat  expedition — no  desperate  alternative 
of  some  foundering  ship's  crew — but  the  deliberate,  care 
fully  considered  project  of  an  experienced  sailor ;  and 
that  the  hardihood  evinced  in  its  conception  was  surpass 
ed  by  the  resolution,  perseverance,  and  skill  with  which 
it  was  conducted  to  its  end. 

The  presence  of  Botello  was  soon  known  to  his 
friends;  and  the  rurnor  spread  through  the  city  that  an 
Indian  fleet  had  arrived  off  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus. 
It  reached  the  court,  so  that  upon  his  application  for 
an  audience  of  the  king,  he  found  no  detention  except 
from  the  curiosity  of  the  courtiers  and  ministers;  which, 

6 


122  ROMANCE     DUST. 

however,  he   resolutely    refused  to   satisfy,  until  he  had 
communicated  his  news  to  the  royal  ear. 

Botello  exhibited  his  copy  of  the  convention  with 
Badur,  king  of  Cambaya,  and  the  plans  of  the  fort 
which  was  being"  erected  at  Diu,  and  related  the  history 
of  his  adventurous  voyage.  King  John  freely  expressed 
his  astonishment  and  delight,  and  calling  around  him 
the  members  of  his  household,  familiarly  questioned  Bo 
tello  as  to  all  the  little  details  of  his  voyage. 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation.  Botello 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees.  "  There  is  one  point," 
he  exclaimed,  "  upon  which  your  majesty  has  not  con 
descended  to  question  me." 

"What  is  that?"  demanded  the  king. 
"  My  reasons,"  replied  Botello,  "  for  undertaking  this 
long  and  hazardous  voyage.  Your  majesty  knows,  or 
at  least  many  of  your  majesty's  enemies  know,  that  I 
am  one  not  over  cautious  in  confronting  danger,  either 
by  sea  or  land ;  but  I  should  never  have  had  the  courage 
to  make  myself  the  bearer  of  tidings  however  impor 
tant,  as  I  have  done,  without  some  reason  other  than 
the  desire  of  astonishing  the  world  by  a  feat  which  by 
many  will  be  pronounced  simply  fool-hardy.  Your  ma 
jesty  will  believe  me — I  had  another  and  a  better 
reason." 

"And  that  reason  was " 

"The   favor   of  my   sovereign,   and   the  removal   of 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  123 

the  undeserved  suspicions  with  which  my  motives  and 
feelings  had  been  visited." 

"  Rise,"  replied  the  king,  extending  his  hand,  and 
smiling  graciously.  "  Our  suspicions  were  of  the  slight 
est.  We  will  take  some  fitting  opportunity  of  showing 
that  they  are  gone  for  ever." 

The  courtiers  overwhelmed  Botello  and  his  compa 
nions  with  congratulations.  The  king  accompanied  him 
to  see  the  boat,  and  upon  dismissing  him,  renewed  his 
assurances  of  favor  and  reward — assurances  which  Bo 
tello  found  were  destined  never  to  be  realized.  The 
next  day  a  change  had  come  over  the  royal  counte 
nance — the  jealousy  of  trade  had  been  aroused.  It 
would  be  a  terrible  blow  to  the  commercial  mono 
poly,  already  threatened  from  so  many  quarters,  to 
have  it  known  that  the  voyage  from  the  East  Indies 
had  been  performed  in  an  open  boat.  Botello  was  in 
formed  that,  for  reasons  of  state,  his  boat  must  be  de 
stroyed,  but  that  he  himself  should  ever  continue  to 
enjoy  the  favorable  opinion  of  his  sovereign.  As  an 
earnest  of  the  royal  favor,  which  was  some  day  to  ex 
hibit  itself  more  openly,  he  was  appointed  to  an  office 
of  no  great  consequence,  and  which  had  also  the  dis 
advantage  attached  to  it  of  a  residence  in  the  interior 
of  the  country. 

Once  installed,  he  found  that  he  was  little  better 
than  a  prisoner  for  life.  His  movements  were  closely 


124  ROMANCE     DUST. 

watched  by  the  officials  surrounding  him;  his  commu 
nications  with  the  capital  were  cut  off,  and  to  all  his 
remonstrances  and  petitions  the  only  reply  was  that 
the  king's  service  required  his  continual  residence 
in  his  department.  Botello  was  not  a  man  to  quietly 
submit  to  such  unjust  restraint ;  but  unluckily  his  health 
began  to  fail.  His  body  found  itself  unable  to  with 
stand  the  chafings  and  struggles  of  his  energetic  and 
adventurous  spirit  under  the  mortifications  and  disap 
pointments  of  his  position ;  and  the  fears  and  suspi 
cions  of  the  court  of  Lisbon  were  soon  removed  by 
his  death.  His  boat  had  been  burned — his  companions 
had  been  sent  back  to  India,  and  it  was  not  long  be 
fore  the  fact  of  his  extraordinary  voyage  had  passed 
from  the  public  mind. 


A  good  pendant  to  this  story  of  Botello's  adventure 
is  the  singular  voyage  made  not  many  years  since  by 
a  gallant  and  well  known  officer  of  the  American  navy. 
He  still  lives  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  highest  honors 
of  the  service — the  merited  rewards  of  a  life  of  extra 
ordinary  adventure  and  vicissitude. 

Commencing  life  as  a  cabin-boy  in  the  merchant  ser 
vice,  his  first  voyage  was  to  the  West  Indies.  Upon 
his  return  his  whole  wages,  amounting  to  one  dollar, 
were  judiciously  expended  for  vaccination.  Having 


ASTONISHING     ADVENTURE.  125 

thus  secured  an  immunity  from  one  of  the  worst  forms 
of  disease,  and  one  to  which  sailors  are  peculiarly  ex 
posed,  he  again  shipped,  and  for  several  years  remained 
roving  the  ocean,  under  almost  every  conceivable  cir 
cumstance,  and  in  almost  every  possible  position.  He 
was  wrecked  several  times,  captured  by  a  French  pri 
vateer  in  our  quasi  war  with  France,  confined  some 
time  in  a  Spanish  prison  at  Santa  Cruz,  in  the  Cana 
ries,  and  engaged  in  many  stirring  adventures ;  until, 
finally,  as  sailing  master  of  an  American  corvette,  he 
signalized  his  coolness  and  thorough  seamanship  by 
handling  her,  during  a  most  desperate  engagement  with 
an  English  vessel,  as  if,  to  use  the  expression  of  his 
commanding  officer,  "  he  had  been  working  her  into 
some  familiar  roadstead." 

It  was  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  career  that  the 
very  singular  voyage  to  which  we  allude  took  place. 
It  happened  that  in  the  course  of  his  rovings  he  found 
himself  at  Princes  Island,  in  the  Gulf  of  Guinea,  the 
master  of  a  small  boat  of  not  more  than  thirty  tons. 
Here  he  was  confined  for  several  weeks  by  an  attack 
of  the  coast  fever.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  walk, 
he  mustered  his  crew,  which  consisted  of  one  old  man 
and  a  boy — boarded  his  little  craft,  and  got  under 
way.  The  old  man  was  also  just  recovering  from  the 
fever,  and  on  the  second  or  third  day  out,  had  a  re 
lapse,  which  laid  him  in  his  berth  in  the  little  confined 


126 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


cabin  delirious.  In  a  day  or  two  more  the  captain 
himself  was  taken  down  again — the  fever  redevelop 
ing  itself  in  full  force.  No  one  now  remained  on  deck 
of  the  little  craft  but  the  boy  ;  who  was,  however, 
under  the  circumstance,  quite  competent  to  the  whole 
duty.  The  trade  wind  blew  steadily.  Pernambuco, 
their  destined  port,  lay  almost  dead  to  leeward;  and 
the  little  vessel,  with  her  helm  lashed  and  her  foresail 
squared,  steered  herself  on  her  westerly  course  without 
much  trouble. 

And  fortunate  it  was  that  the  wind  was  so  steady, 
and  that  the  boat  could  steer  herself;  for  she  was  des 
tined  to  be  relieved  of  even  the  superintendence  of  the 
boy.  There  was  a  heavy  sea  on,  before  which  she  was 
industriously  working  her  way — rolling,  and  pitching, 
and  scudding  but  ever  keeping  herself  buoyant  and  dry — 
when  one  day,  as  the  boy  was  going  aft  with  some 
thing  that  he  had  prepared  for  the  invalids  below,  a 
short,  sharp  lurch  threw  him  from  his  balance;  a  low 
rail,  not  more  than  a  foot  in  height,  but  ill  supplied 
the  place  of  bulwarks,  and  over  this  the  poor  fellow 
tumbled  into  the  sea.  His  wild  shrieks  pierced  the 
ears  of  the  sick  men  below,  but  could  not  arrest  the 
course  of  the  now  masterless  boat. 

From  this  time  for  a  period  of  two  weeks,  neither 
of  the  invalids  were  able  to  put  a  head  above  the 
deck.  Still  the  boat  bowled  along  in  safety,  at  the 


ASTONISHING-     ADVENTURE.  127 

rate  of  eight  or  ten  knots  an  hour,  before  the  stiff 
breeze.  What  a  picture  !  could  one  have  seen  her 
struggling  like  a  thing  of  life  and  volition — a  little 
phantom  or  fairy  bark — with  the  rough  seas :  now  tossed 
aloft  on  their  feathered  crests,  now  sliding  along  their 
glassy  sides,  and  now  buried  in  their  deep  hollows — 
with  no  mortal  hand  to  guide  her — no  indication  of  hu 
manity  about  her  rigging  or  on  her  deck — not  even  a 
sign  of  the  freight  of  human  misery  she  carried. 

At  the  end  of  this  period  the  captain,  who,  like  his 
companion,  had  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  time  in 
a  state  of  stupor,  interrupted  only  now  and  then  by 
an  instinctive  application  to  the  can  of  fresh  water, 
luckily  standing  within  reach,  recovered  his  conscious 
ness,  and  with  it  sufficient  strength  to  creep  from  his 
berth,  and  to  draw  himself  up  the  narrow  companion- 
way.  It  was  early  in  the  morning :  the  sun  was  just 
beginning  to  pour  his  enlivening  rays  over  the  eastern 
ocean ;  the  cool  fresh  breeze  was  stealing  along  the  sur 
face  of  the  water,  with  healing  on  its  wings,  invigorat 
ing  sensibly  with  every  breath  the  invalid,  and  ena 
bling  him  to  reply  to  a  hail  from  a  lofty  ship  close 
along  side  of  him,  and  standing  on  the  same  course. 

"  Where  from,  and  where  are  you  bound  to  ?"  de 
manded  the  stranger. 

"  From  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  bound  to  Pernam- 
buco,"  replied  the  sick  man.  "  But  we  have  all  been 


ROMAN  CE     DUST. 

down  with  the  African  fever.  There  has  not  been  a  soul 
upon  deck  for  many  days,  or  weeks,  for  aught  I  know ; 
and  we  have  lost  our  reckoning  entirely.  Can  you  tell 
me  what  quarter  of  the  world  this  may  happen  to  be?" 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  a  hard  time  of  it,"  re 
turned  the  stranger ;  "  but  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say 
you  have  kept  no  reckoning.  Your  craft  steers  her- 
self:  there  is  nothing  strange  in  that,  going  before 
the  wind  with  nothing  but  head  sail  set;  but  she  must 
have  something  of  the  pointer  breed  to  nose  her  true 
course  out  for  weeks.  You  are  bound  for  Pernambu- 
co,  you  say?  Well,  here  is  Pernambuco ;  you  have 
hit  it  exactly.  When  this  haze  lifts  you  will  see  the 
landmarks." 

And  thus  was  happily  terminated  a  voyage,  the  like 
of  which  never  before  occurred,  and  never,  probably,  will 
occur  again.  To  cross  the  Atlantic,  and  that,  too,  not 
at  its  narrowest  part,  without  any  one  to  manage  the 
vessel  for  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  distance,  is,  con 
sidering  the  endless  variety  of  accidents  at  sea,  within 
perhaps  the  category  of  probabilities  ;  but  to  hit  ex 
actly  the  port  for  which  the  voyage  was  originally 
commenced,  we  can  hardly  expect  to  happen  a  second 
time. 


DRAGUT,   THE   CORSAIR. 


CHAPTEB   I. 

THE  reader  will  recollect  the  Spanish  ballad  with 
the  above  title,  in  Lockhart's  collection.  It  purports 
to  illustrate  an  incident  in  the  life  of  Rais  Dra^ut, 

O         / 

the  most  redoubted  corsair,  not  even  excepting  the 
Barbarossas,  who  ever  ranged  the  Mediterranean.  But 
it  must  be  observed  that  the  Spaniard  was  Dragut's 
deadly  enemy ;  and  that  in  searching  for  materials  for 
a  sketch  of  his  life,  the  poet  is  the  only  authority  we 
have  been  able  to  find  for  the  story  told  in  the  follow 
ing  lines : 

"  Oh  swiftly,  very  swiftly,  they  up  the  straits  have  gone  ! 
"  Oh  swiftly  flies  the  corsair,  and  swift  the  cross  comes  on ! 
"  The  cross  upon  yon  banner,  that  streams  unto  the  breeze  : 
"  It  is  the  sign  of  victory — the  cross  of  the  Maltese. 

"  '  Row,  row,  my  slaves,'  quoth  Dragut, '  the  knights,  the  knights  are 

near  ! 

"  Row,  row,  my  slaves,  row  swiftly,  the  starlight  is  too  clear  ; 
"  The  stars  they  are  too  bright,  and  he  that  means  well, 
"  He  harms  us  when  he  trims  his  light — yon  Moorish  sentinel.' 
6* 


130  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  Here  came  a  wreathe  of  smoke  from  out  a  culverine — 

"  The  corsair's  stern  it  broke,  and  he  sank  into  the  brine  ; 

"  Down  Moor  and  fettered  Christian  went  beneath  the  billow's  roar; 

"  But  hell  had  work  for  Dragut,  and  he  swam  safe  ashore. 

The  ballad  goes  on  to  relate  how 

"  One  only  of  the  captives,  a  happy  man  is  he : 

"  The  Christian  sailors  see  him  yet  struggling  in  the  sea ; 

"  They  hear  the  captive  praying — they  hear  the  Christian  tongue, 

"  And  swiftly  from  the  galley  a  saving  rope  is  flung." 

But  it  is  not  alone  in  the  songs  of  his  enemies  that 
the  famous  Dragut  established  his  renown.  Among  the 
Moors  of  Barbaiy  his  memory  is  still  cherished,  and 
his  praises  chaimted  in  verse.  An  aged  Jew,  a  native 
of  Fez,  once  assured  us  that  in  his  youth  many  songs 
and  stories  of  which  Dragut's  courage  and  prowess 
formed  the  staple,  were  current.  He  could  recollect 
only  the  commencement  of  one,  which  ran  nearly  in 
this  wise,  making  a  somewhat  curious  counterpart  to 
the  Spanish  song  : 

Ho  !  see  the  Knights  of  Malta — their  coward  cheeks  are  pale  ; 
And,  hark !  from  Spain  and  Italy  there  comes  a  fearful  wail ; 
For  Dragut,  the  bold  corsair,  has  left  Mahedea's  shore, 
And  soon  the  trembling  Christians  shall  hear  his  cannon's  roar. 

Haste!  haste  thee,  Rais  Dragut !  up,  Lion  of  the  Sea ! 
Before  thy  flaunting  banner  the  trailing  cross  doth  flee; 
Ho  !  charge  the  forward  culverine  !     Ha  !  listen  to  the  roar ! 
And,  see !  a  mast  is  splintered  !  disabled  is  an  oar ! 


DRAGUT.     THE     CORSAIR.  131 

The  Christian  hounds  are  quailing — 'tis  vain  to  fight  or  fly : 
"  Who  may  withstand  bold  Dragut !"  is  now  their  doleful  cry ; 
While  their  Moorish  slaves  uprising  wave  aloft  their  joyful  hands, 
And  clank  to  the  name  of  Dragut  their  heavy  iron  bands. 

Unlike  the  Barbarossas,  and  many  other  famous  cor 
sairs,  who  were  renegades  from  the  Christian   faith,  Dra 
gut  had  the  advantage  of  having  "been  born  a  Moham 
medan.     His   parents    were   poor   laboring  people,  of  a 
small   village  of  Anatolia,  lying   opposite  to  the  island 
of  Rhodes,     When  a  boy  he  was  noticed  for  his  adven 
turous  and  energetic  spirit,  and    for  an  indisposition  for 
the   laborious   and   regular  mode  of  life  of  his  parents, 
who    obtained   a   miserable    living   by    tilling    the    soil. 
At  twelve  .years   of  age   young   Dragut's    budding    ge 
nius    had   already    outgrown    the   narrow   boundaries   of 
his   native   village ;    so,  leaving   home — whether  with  or 
without  the  paternal  blessing,  the  historians  do  not  say 
— he   entered   into   the   service   of  a   master   gunner   in 
one   of  the    galleys    of   the   grand   signior's   fleet.      His 
activity  and  intelligence  soon  procured   him  promotion  ; 
first  from  cabin-boy  to  sailor,  then  to  pilot,  and  finally 
to  gunner,  in  the  duties  of  which   latter  station  he  be 
came    wonderfully   expert.      By    the   time   that   he   had 
grown   to  manhood  he  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  active 
service,  and  had   acquired   no   little   reputation  for  cou 
rage  and  skill  in  navigation,  but  above  all  for  the  pos 
session  of  resources  in  difficult  straits. 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


Having  saved  a  small  sum  of  money,  he  purchased 
a  share  in  an  armed  galley,  in  which  he  made  several 
successful  cruizes  along  the  coasts  of  Italy.  His  por 
tion  of  the  plunder  soon  enabled  him  to  possess  a  galley 
of  his  own.  As  he  had  no  slaves  to  man  the  oars,  he 
persuaded  his  crew  to  take  upon  themselves  that  labor, 
and  to  put  to  sea,  trusting  to  fortune  to  supply  the 
deficiency.  Nothing  could  indicate  a  greater  degree  of 
confidence  in  his  judgment  and  skill  on  the  part  of  his 
followers.  A  well-timed  descent  upon  a  little  fishing 
village  on  the  coast  of  Sicily  justified  their  faith  in  his 
good  fortune,  and  a  corps  of  stout,  practiced  rowers 
completed  the  galley's  sailing  trim. 

The  genius  of  Dragut  had,  heretofore,  been  cramped 
and  confined;  it  had  now  an  opportunity  to  display 
itself.  With  unflagging  energy  he  traversed  the  Medi 
terranean  from  the  mouths  of  the  Nile  to  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar,  overhauling  and  capturing  every  merchant  ves 
sel  he  encountered,  evading  with  singular  address  the 
armed  galleys  of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  looking  into 
every  bay  and  inlet  on  the  Christian  coasts,  and  mak 
ing  many  devastating  inroads  far  into  the  country. 

As  his  fame  spread,  other  corsairs  became  desirous 
of  uniting  their  fortunes  with  his;  and  ere  long  he 
found  himself  in  command  of  quite  a  formidable  squad 
ron.  At  this  time  Heyreden  Barbarossa,  who  had  suc 
ceeded  his  brother  in  the  government  of  Algiers,  was 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  133 

the  nominal  chief  of  all  Turkish  corsairs  in  the  Medi 
terranean,  although  it  was  not  until  sometime  later 
that  he  received  the  appointment  of  Captain  Basha,  or 
commander-in-chief  of  all  the  Ottoman  fleets.  The  am- 
bition  of  Dragut  expanding  with  his  growing  wealth 
and  power,  made  him  desirous  of  the  official  sanction 
of  the  Turkish  government,  and  of  the  countenance  and 
protection  of  Heyreden.  Accordingly,  proceeding  to  Al 
giers,  he  made  an  offer  of  his  services,  and  an  acknow 
ledgment  of  the  authority  of  the  Basha,  and  of  his 
master  the  Grand  Signior.  The  reputation  of  Dragut 
had  preceded  him,  and  his  reception  by  Barbarossa  was 
of  the  warmest  kind.  His  experience — his  prudence  and 
courage — and,  above  all,  his  intimate  knowledge  of  every 
port  in  the  Mediterranean,  rendered  him  a  valuable  ac 
quisition,  and  insured  his  appointment  to  the  most  im 
portant  posts.  He  was  intrusted  with  the  conduct  of 
several  difficult  and  dangerous  expeditions,  in  all  of 
which  he  was  successful ;  and  was  finally,  after  several 
years'  service,  nominated  by  the  Basha  his  Kayia,  or 
lieutenant,  and  given  the  sole  command  of  a  fleet  of 
heavy  galleys.  Uncontrolled  now,  except  by  the  prompt 
ings  of  his  own  energetic  spirit,  Dragut  passed  most  of 
his  time  at  sea.  The  coasts  of  Spain  and  Italy  suffered 
terribly  from  his  visitations ;  thousands  of  Christians 
were  hurried  into  captivity,  and  the  commerce  of  the 
Mediterranean  was  nearly  annihilated. 


134  ROMANCE     DUST. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  Dragut's 
successes  secured  any  immunity  to  Mohammedan  com 
merce.  The  Christian  corsairs  were  numerous  and  ac 
tive  :  retaliatory  visits  were  paid  to  the  coasts  of  Bar- 
bary  and  the  ports  of  the  Levant ;  and  not  an  act  of 
violence  or  cruelty  was  performed  on  one  side,  without 
its  being  paralleled,  if  not  justified,  by  a  similar  deed 
on  the  other. 

Among  these  Christian  corsairs,  the  most  formidable 
to  the  Barbary  and  Turkish  cruizers  were  the  renowned 
Knights  of  St.  John.  For  awhile  after  their  expulsion 
from  their  stronghold  in  the  island  of  Rhodes,  by  Su 
leiman  the  Magnificent,  the  order  declined  in  pow 
er  ;  but  its  services  were  too  valuable  as  a  defence 
against  the  infidel  for  it  to  be  suffered  to  go  entirely 
to  decay,  and  Charles  the  Fifth  of  Spain,  the  most 
powerful  and  politic  prince  of  the  time,  presented  to 
the  wandering  and  homeless  Knights  the  Island  of  Mal 
ta,  a  position  admirably  adapted  to  their  chief  object,  that 
of  war  with  the  Infidel,  and  the  protection  of  Christian 
commerce.  From  this  central  and  commanding  strong 
hold  the  order  sent  forth  its  cruizers,  to  slay,  capture, 
and  plunder  with  as  little  mercy  as  characterized  the 
depredations  of  Dragut,  Drubdevil,  or  the  Barbarossas. 
Sad  was  the  fate  of  the  Christians  who  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  fanatical  soldiers  of  the  crescent;  but  equal- 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  135 

ly    sad   was    the  fate  of  the   captives   of  the  stern  and 
bigotted  defenders  of  the  cross. 

The  Abbe  Vertot  relates  an  incident  which,  although 
occurring  in  the  case  of  a  Mohammedan  captain,  illus 
trates  equally  well  the  feeling  entertained  by  the  Moor 
ish  galley  slaves  for  their  masters.  The  commander  De 
Romegas  was  the  most  intrepid  and  successful  knight 
that  ever  threw  the  banner  of  his  order  to  the  breeze. 
But  he  had  a  peculiarly  ferocious  aspect,  and  the  repu 
tation  of  treating  his  prisoners  with  great  cruelty.  He 
himself,  however,  asserted  that  he  did  so  only  by  way 
of  reprisal,  and  in  order  to  force  the  Moorish  corsairs 
to  treat  their  Christian  slaves  with  more  humanity. 
This  apology,  however,  says  Vertot,  did  not  entirely  re 
move  the  suspicion  entertained  by  the  world  that  he,  in 
resorting  to  retaliation,  had  not  committed  any  great 
violence  upon  his  nature ;  and  that  his  temper,  which 
was  naturally  cruel  and  violent,  had  perhaps  contributed 
as  much  to  it  as  policy.  Certain  it  is,  had  the  posi 
tions  of  himself  and  Rais  Conciny  been  reversed,  he 
would  have  suffered  from  the  hands  of  his  Moorish  row 
ers  the  same  fate  that  befell  that  famous  corsair  at  the 
hands  of  his  Christian  slaves.  It  was  a  desperate  battle 
that,  between  Romegas  and  Conciny.  The  galley  of  the 
Calabrian  renegado  was  strongly  manned — having  two 
hundred  and  fifty  Moorish  soldiers,  and  two  hundred 
Christians  chained  to  the  oar.  For  a  long  time  the  fight 


136  ROMANCE     DUST. 

was  maintained  with  equal  advantage.  When  at  last 
Romegas,  enraged  at  such  a  vigorous  resistance,  col 
lected  his  bravest  officers,  and  leaped  aboard  the  ene 
my,  sword  in  hand.  The  corsair  received  him  with 
similar  resolution — killing  two  knights  with  his  own 
hand;  but  staggering  from  a  blow,  he  fell  upon  the 
rowers'  benches,  when  the  slaves  seized  him,  and  passed 
him  along  from  bench  to  bench.  "Every  one  gave 
him  a  blow,  and  some  were  so  furious  with  revenge, 
that  they  tore  him  with  their  teeth.  There  was  not 
one  but  would  have  a  piece  of  him  ;  so  that  before  he 
was  got  to  the  last  bench  there  was  scarce  a  bit  of  him 
left." 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIE.  137 


CHAPTEE   II. 


IT  was  one  bright  morning  in  the  summer  of  1540 
that  a  fleet  of  thirteen  galleys  were  seen  lying  at  an 
chor  in  the  road  of  Geralatta,  on  the  coast  of  Corsica, 
between  Calvi  and  Liazzo.  The  garrison  of  the  little 
castle  on  the  shore,  although  secure  from  an  assault, 
were  terribly  frightened  ;  for  they  recognised  in  the 
flags  flying  at  bow  and  stern  the  signals  of  the  dreaded 
Dragut.  Several  of  the  galleys  were  lying  within  reach 
of  the  guns  of  the  castle ;  but  it  was  judged  most  pru 
dent  not  to  awaken  the  ire  of  the  pirate,  and  provoke 
him  to  land,  by  opening  a  fire  upon  them. 

Dragut  himself  well  knew  the  prudential  reasons 
restraining  the  garrison  of  the  castle,  and  felt  himself 
perfectly  secure.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had 
used  the  same  roadstead  for  the  purpose  of  resting  his 
rowers,  and  waiting  for  his  prey.  As  the  sun  rose,  he 
emerged  from  his  narrow  cabin.  A  slave  brought  out 
a  small  praying  rug  of  Turkish  manufacture,  and  spread 


138  ROMANCE     DUST. 

it  upon  the  deck.     Before  seating  himself  upon  it,  Dra- 
gut  threw  from  beneath  his   thick  overhanging    brows  a 
keen  glance,  full  of  the  instinctive  comprehensiveness  of 
the  practised  seaman,  along  the  decks  of  his  own  galley, 
and  over  the  other  vessels  of  his  squadron.     The  Moor 
ish  sailors  and  soldiers   were  busy  ;  some  cleaning  their 
arms — others  mending  the  rigging — others  cooking  their 
morning    meal    over    little    portable    charcoal    furnaces. 
The    Christians    were,   some   of  them,   still    sleeping    on 
their  benches,  to  which  they  were  chained;  while  others 
of  them,    awakened   to    their    misery,  were  eating,  with 
sighs,  and  half  suppressed   groans  and  muttered  impre 
cations,  their  rations  of  black  mouldy  bread,  dipped  in 
a  little  rancid  oil.     A  more  woe-begone  set  can  hardly 
be  imagined.     Begrimmed  with  dust,  covered  with  sores, 
ragged    and    emaciated,    there    was    the    grim,    stern-vi- 
saged   Spaniard;    the    fierce-eyed,   sharp-featured   Italian; 
and   scattered  here  and  there,  the  white-haired  German, 
and   the    stout-limbed    Englishman — France    alone    fur 
nishing  no  specimen  of  her  people;  her  king,  Henry  II, 
happening  to  be  at  this  time  in  alliance  with  the  Porte. 
Little    did   these   poor   wretches    dream    of  the   sudden 
and    happy    turn  of  fortune   that  one  short  hour  would 
produce. 

Dragut  scanned  the  horizon  seaward  for  a  moment. 
There  was  not  a  sail  in  sight;  and  the  pious  rover 
dropping  upon  his  carpet,  with  his  face  to  the  east,  ad- 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  139 

dressed  himself  to  his  devotions.  His  prayers,  however, 
were  cut  short  by  a  sudden  sensation  throughout  the  deck, 
and  the  announcement  that  two  galleys  were  sweep 
ing  around  a  point  of  land  forming  the  mouth  of  the 
harbor.  Dragut  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  rapidly  issued 
his  orders  to  slip  the  cables  and  give  chase.  The  sleep 
ing  and  listless  slaves  were  aroused  by  blows,  kicks, 
and  curses,  and  the  oars  got  into  the  water  ;  but  before 
any  of  the  galleys  could  get  in  motion,  another  heavy 
vessel  appeared  in  sight — and  still  another,  and  ano 
ther  ;  and  instead  of  attempting  to  fly,  upon  the  sight 
of  the  Moorish  squadron,  they  proceeded  to  close  up, 
and  continued  to  advance  into  the  harbor.  Other  gal 
leys  followed,  until  the  astonished  Algerines  saw  them 
selves  shut  in  by  a  force  three  times  as  great  as  their 
own. 

This  force  proved  to  be  a  fleet  despatched  expressly 
by  order  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  to  capture  the  renowned 
corsair,  or  drive  him  from  the  Italian  and  Spanish  coasts. 
Wearied  out  with  the  frequent  complaints  made  to  him 
of  Dragut's  depredations,  the  emperor  had  at  last  or 
dered  Prince  Andrea  D'Oria,  his  admiral,  to  "  hunt  him 
out,  and  endeavor  by  all  possible  means  to  purge  the 
seas  of  so  insufferable  a  nuisance."  The  aged  admiral 
received  the  order  with  pleasure,  and  hastened  to  fit  out 
with  the  utmost  secrecy  and  expedition  a  formidable 
fleet.  Satisfied,  however,  with  the  glory  he  had  already 


140  ROMANCE     DUST. 

won,  and  anxious  to  advance  the  interests  of  his  ne 
phew,  the  prince  transferred  the  command  of  the  expe 
dition  to  young  Jannetin  D'Oria,  who,  setting  sail,  had 
the  good  fortune  to  alight,  without  loss  of  time,  upon 
the  object  of  his  search  in  the  harbor  of  Giralatta. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  Dragut  saw  that  there 
was  hardly  a  single  chance  of  escape;  but  great  as  was 
the  disparity  of  force,  he  got  his  galleys  under  way, 
and  resolutely  advanced  to  the  attack.  The  battle 
raged  with  great  violence  for  some  time;  but  vain  were 
all^  his  efforts  to  force  his  way  through  the  Spanish 
fleet.  Gradually  closing  in,  the  heavy  Christian  vessels 
drove  his  galleys  back  towards  the  bottom  of  the  bay, 
and  within  reach  of  the  guns  of  the  castle.  The  garri 
son  opened  upon  him  a  furious  fire;  while  the  noise  of 
the  cannonade  brought  down  to  the  shore  a  multitude 
of  armed  Corsican  peasants,  ready  to  attack  him  in 
case  he  should  attempt  to  land. 

Dragut  seeing  that  the  day  was  lost,  consented  to 
hoist  a  white  flag  in  token  of  submission.  A  boat  was 
despatched  to  the  Spanish  admiral,  offering  to  capitu 
late  upon  terms ;  but  D'Oria  knew  too  well  his  ad 
vantages.  The  only  condition  he  would  grant  was  that 
of  life;  and  with  this  Dragut  was  compelled  to  com 
ply.  The  Algerine  galleys  were  boarded  by  prize  crews, 
the  Christian  slaves  liberated,  and  the  Mohammedan 
sailors  and  soldiers  chained  to  the  oars  in  their  place. 


D  R  A  G  U  T,     THE      CORSAIR.  141 

Dragut  was  taken  to  the  admiral's  galley.  He  mount 
ed  to  her  deck  with  a  dignified  air,  expecting  to  see  in 
his  captor  the  venerable  and  renowned  Prince  D'Oria. 
What  was  his  surprise  when  he  was  presented  to  the 
youthful  Jannetin.  His  pride  was  touched ;  rage  flashed 
from  his  eyes,  and  in  a  voice  trembling  with  passion 
he  exclaimed :  "  What !  have  I  then  become  the  slave 
of  such  an  effeminate,  beardless  boy !"  Other  hasty 
and  passionate  expressions  escaped  him,  and  among 
them  a  term  of  reproach  which  we  cannot  repeat,  but 
which  still  occupies  a  prominent  place  in  the  slang  vo 
cabularies  of -the  Mediterranean. 

"  Dog  of  an  Infidel  !"  shouted  the  young  prince. 
And  rushing  upon  the  sturdy  and  undaunted  corsair, 
he  struck  him  in  the  face,  pulled  off  his  turban,  tore 
out  his  beard  and  mustachos,  and  would  have  run  him 
through  with  his  sword,  had  he  not  been  restrained  by 
his  officers. 

This  singular  scene  exerted  a  most  injurious  influ 
ence  upon  the  fortunes  of  Dragut.  At  the  command 
of  the  enraged  D'Oria  he  was  loaded  with  fetters  and 
chained  to  an  oar.  His  propositions  for  ransom  were 
treated  with  contempt,  and  he  was  given  to  understand 
that  no  considerations,  not  even  all  the  wealth  of  Al 
giers,  would  move  the  admiral  to  his  release. 

The  capture  of  the  redoubted  rover  excited  the 
strongest  sensation  throughout  all  the  ports  of  the  Me- 


142  ROMANCE     DUST. 

diterranean.  Bonfires,  illuminations,  and  processions  at 
tested  the  joy  of  the  Christians ;  while  the  prompt  ef 
forts  of  the  Algerine  and  Turkish  governments  to  effect 
his  liberation,  testified  to  their  sense  of  the  loss  the 
Moorish  flag  had  sustained.  Heyraden  Barbarossa  sent 
to  offer  in  exchange  any  number  of  Christian  slaves, 
or  any.  sum  his  captors  should  choose  to  name,  as  a 
ransom.  But  vain  were  all  the  exertions  of  his  friends ; 
and  the  hard  lot  of  the  galley  slave — to  be  daily  re 
viled,  beaten,  starved,  and  finally  worked  to  death  at 
the  oar — seemed  to  be  the  fate  from  which  there  was 
no  possibility  of  escape. 


DBA  GUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  143 


CHAPTER  III. 


YEARS  passed,  when  one  day  the  Genoese  were 
startled  by  the  appearance  of  a  hundred  Turkish  ships 
of  war  before  their  harbor.  It  was  the  fleet  of  Heyra- 
den  Barbarossa,  who  had  been  removed  from  the  post 
of  Basha  of  Algiers,  and  appointed  by  Suleiman  to 
the  office  of  Captain  Basha,  or  commander-m-chief  of 
all  the  naval  forces  of  the  Porte.  The  Genoese  were 
taken  quite  by  surprise.  They  had  no  force  at  hand 
adequate  to  the  protection  of  their  coasts  from  the  at 
tacks  of  such  a  powerful  fleet,  and  of  course  were  ter 
ribly  alarmed,  and  ready  to  listen  to  whatever  terms 
the  Turkish  admiral  had  to  propose. 

Barbarossa  simply  demanded  that  Dragut  should  be 
given  up  to  him,  promising  that,  in  case  his  demand 
should  be  complied  with,  he  would  leave  the  coasts  and 
commerce  of  the  republic  untouched,  and  that  he  would 
pay  the  sum  of  three  thousand  ducats  for  his  ransom ; 
and  threatening,  in  case  of  refusal,  to  ravage  with  un- 


144  ROMANCE     DUST. 

heard  of  severity  every  accessible  district.  The  Ge 
noese  were  well  satisfied  to  get  rid  of  Barbarossa's 
presence  so  easily.  The  senate  hastened  to  solicit  from 
Admiral  D'Oria  the  release  of  Dragut.  His  chains  were 
knocked  off;  and  the  wretched  galley-slave,  who  for 
four  tedious  years  had  tugged  in  sullen  resignation  at  the 
oar,  was  once  more  a  free  man.  Dragut  was  received 
on  board  the  Turkish  Admiral  with  every  demonstra 
tion  of  respect;  his  friend  and  patron  presenting  him 
with  a  stout  galliot,  and  a  commission  from  the  grand 
signior  constituting  him  generalissimo  of  all  the  western 
corsairs. 

An  evil  day  for  the  Christians  was  that  on  which 
Dragut  was  restored  to  freedom.  The  cruelty  with 
which,  for  four  long  years,  he  had  been  treated,  had  by 
no  means  improved  his  temper,  or  lessened  his  hatred  of 
the  followers  of  the  cross.  His  old  profession  was  re 
sumed,  and  prosecuted  with  renewed  ardor.  In  com 
mand  of  a  powerful  squadron,  he  daily  made  de 
scents  upon  the  coasts  of  his  enemies,  and  committed 
the  most  terrible  devastations.  The  Bay  of  Naples  was 
visited  by  him  in  1548.  Castle  Lamare  was  attacked 
and  plundered,  with  various  other  towns  and  villages, 
and  a  multitude  of  people  of  both  sexes,  and  all  ages 
and  conditions,  carried  off  captive.  A  few  days  after 
a  Maltese  galley  fell  into  his  hands,  on  board  of  which 
he  found  seventy  thousand  ducats,  designed  for  the  re- 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  145 

pairs  of  the  fortifications  of  Tripoli — an  irreparable  loss 
to  the  town,  and  a  severe  blow  to  his  most  inveterate 
enemies,  the  Knights  of  Malta. 

This  same  year  died  the  venerable  and  renowned 
Heyraden  Barbarossa,  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty. 
To  repair  the  loss  of  his  great  admiral  the  grand  sig- 
nior  issued  an  order  that  all  Turkish  and  Barbary  cor 
sairs  should  render  obedience  of  Dragut,  as  their  cap 
tain-general  ;  but  while  thus  bestowing  the  authority, 
the  title  of  captain-basha,  through  some  court  jealousy, 
was  withheld.  Dragut,  however,  was  not  a  man  to 
trouble  himself  about  so  small  a  matter  as  the  title  of 
an  office.  Substantial  and  available  power  was  the 
object  of  his  ambition,  and  to  obtain  this  ho  resolved 
to  imitate  the  example  of  Barbarossa  the  First,  and 
secure  a  stronghold  for  himself  on  the  southern  shore 
of  the  Mediterranean,  which  he  could  make  a  depot  for 
prizes,  and  a  safe  naval  station  for  his  own  and  the 
galleys  of  his  dependants,  and  where,  under  the  nominal 
protection  of  the  grand  signior,  he  could  erect  an  inde 
pendent  principality. 

Entertaining  this  design,  he  collected  a  squadron ; 
and  in  mid-winter,  when  the  Christian  fleets  had  aban 
doned  the  sea,  he  attacked  and  made  himself  master  of 
the  Monester,  Susa,  and  Fugues — three  small  towns  be 
longing  to  the  kingdom  of  Tunis,  but  which,  from  their 
defenceless  position,  had  frequently  changed  masters,  and 


146  ROMANCE     DUST. 

were  then  in  possession  of  the  Spaniards.  Dragut  sa 
tisfied  himself  that  neither  of  these  places  could  be 
made  tenable  against  the  imperial  fleet  which  would 
visit  them  in  the  spring.  A  stronger  and  more  de 
fensible  position  was  necessary  for  his  purposes — and 
he  cast  his  longing  eyes  upon  the  fine  city  of  Mahe- 
dia :  but  how  to  get  possession  of  it  was  a  question 
that  any  one  but  Dragut  would  have  despaired  of  an 
swering. 

This  city,  supposed  to  be  the  Adrumetum  of  the 
Romans,*  had,  after  undergoing  many  vicissitudes,  fallen 
into  utter  decay,  when  Mahedi,  the  first  Caliph  of  Kayr- 
wan,  rebuilt  it,  and  gave  it  his  own  name.  It  occu 
pied  a  peninsula  running  into  the  sea,  which,  where  it 
joined  the  land,  was  not  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  paces  across.  Its  natural  position,  surrounded  on 
three  sides  by  water,  and  the  extensive  fortifications 
erected  by  Mahedi,  rendered  it  one  of  the  strongest 
places  in  Barbary.  Substantial  walls  of  solid  masonry, 
flanked  by  six  great  towers,  encompassed  it.  These 
walls  were  so  thick  that  six  horsemen  could  ride 
abreast  upon  them.  Four  of  the  towers  were  square, 


*  Dr.  Shaw  is  of  a  different  opinion.  He  thinks  Herkla,  a  town 
situated  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  further  to  the  northwest,  to  have 
been  the  Adrumetum  of  the  Ancients,  and  that  Mahedia  is  the 
Turres,  or  country  seat  of  Hannibal,  from  which  he  is  said  to  have 
embarked  after  his  flight  from  Carthage. 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  147 

of  solid  rock  as  high  as  the  plinth,  like  the  wall,  and 
projected  outwardly  forty  feet,  as  far  as  the  barbacan 
of  the  ravelin.  The  towers  next  the  sea  were  round, 
and  constructed  with  an  equal  regard  to  strength.  Each 
of  these  towers  constituted  a  separate  fortress,  and  could 
be  entered  only  by  little  doors — so  low  that  no  one 
could  pass  without  stooping.  Besides  these  large  tow 
ers  there  were  numerous  smaller  ones,  and  outworks. 
On  the  land  side  there  stood  a  large  castle,  built  within 
double  walls,  between  which  was  a  space  occupied  by 
the  soldiers'  barracks.  The  only  entrance  to  the  city 
on  the  land  side  seems  to  have  been  through  a  gate 
and  arched  passage  running  under  the  large  square 
tower  on  the  eastern  angle. 

This  kind  of  entrance  is  a  peculiar  and  striking  fea 
ture  of  Saracenic  fortification.  It  consisted  in  this  case 
of  an  irregular  vaulted  arch,  seventy  feet  in  length. 
Six  double  doors,  covered  with  iron  plates,  defended  the 
gloomy  and  imposing  passage.  The  last  door,  towards 
the  town,  was  composed  wholly  of  heavy  iron  bars, 
crossed  and  recrossed,  and  firmly  rivetted  together.  The 
form  of  the  doors  was  slightly  convex  outwardly.  They 
were  furnished  with  portcullisses  sliding  in  grooves  from 
the  top  of  the  tower,  and  were  ornamented  with  bronze 
lions  in  relief. 

Lying  within  the  walls  there  was  a  basin  three 
hundred  feet  square,  intended  for  galleys  and  small  ves- 


148  ROMANCE     DUST. 

sels ;  while  for  those  of  larger  size  there  was  a  conve 
nient  harbor,  protected  by  the  defences  of  the  town. 

The  environs  corresponded  in  beauty  and  fertility 
to  the  wealth  and  strength  of  the  place.  Fronting 
the  city  on  the  south  ran  a  ridge  of  rising  hills,  co 
vered  with  vineyards  and  bespangled  with  gleaming 
pleasure  houses  ;  and  on  the  east  stretched  a  fine 
reach  of  ever-verdant  gardens  and  orchards.  Behind 
these  was  a  ridge  hills,  of  and  beyond  these  again 
some  spacious  plains,  abounding  with  excellent  pasture, 
to  which  the  Arabs  were  accustomed  to  resort  in  the 
winter  with  their  vast  herds  of  cattle. 

In  short.  Mahedia  was  just  the  city  to  excite  the 
longing  of  a  rover  in  want  of  a  permanent  location — it 
was  just  the  city  in  which  to  shed  the  coarse  tarry 
garments  of  the'  common  corsair,  and  assume  the  pur 
ple  and  fine  linen  of  a  sovereign  prince.  Dragut  re 
solved  to  make  himself  master  of  it. 

At  this  time  Mahedia,  having  thrown  off  its  alle 
giance  to  the  kings  of  Tunis,  was  an  independent  city, 
and  governed  by  a  council  of  its  chief  inhabitants. 
These,  although  Mohammedans,  were  as  little  disposed 
to  submit  to  Turkish  rule  as  to  Christian  ;  and  the 
movements  of  the  corsairs  were  watched  with  great  jea 
lousy.  There  was  nothing,  however,  to  excite  alarm ; 
when  one  day  a  small  Turkish  brigantine  sought  an 
entrance  into  the  harbor.  Permission  was  readily  ac- 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  149 

corded,  especially  when  it  was  known  that  the  famous 
Dragut,  with  whom  the  citizens  were  disposed  to  cul 
tivate  friendly  terms,  was  on  board. 

Several  times  did  Dragut  visit  the  place :  each  time 
with  only  a  single  vessel,  and  always  conducting  him 
self  with  so  much  courteousness  and  affability,  that  the 
citizens  were  quite  charmed  with  him.  Accidentally,  as  it 
were,  Dragut  formed  an  acquaintance  with  Ibrahim  Ba- 
rat,  one  of  the  principal  citizens,  and  commander  of  one 
ot  the  towers.  This  acquaintance  gradually  ripened  into 
intimacy,  as  many  curious  and  costly  presents  found 
their  way  into  the  Moor's  possession.  At  length  Dra 
gut  held  out  the  prospect  of  a  partnership  in  the  cor 
sair  business,  and  dazzled  his  eyes  with  visions  of  the 
immense  profits  which  would  surely  result. 

"  But,"  continued  Dragut,  "  to  make  a  partnership 
safe  and  durable,  it  will  be  necessary  to  admit  me  to 
the  privileges  of  a  citizen.  The  proposition  is  more 
for  your  interest  than  mine." 

The  countenance  of  Barat  fell  as  he  thought  of  the 
cautious  jealousy  of  his  compatriots  ;  but  his  cupidity, 
so  artfully  excited  by  the  wily  rover,  would  not  permit 
him  to  hesitate,  and  he  promised  to  make  the  attempt 
to  secure  for  the  corsair  the  freedom  of  the  city. 

Barat  made  his  proposition  to  the  council.  Despite, 
however,  his  personal  influence,  it  was  rejected  unanimous 
ly,  and  a  vote  of  censure  was  passed  upon  him  for  pro- 


150  ROMANCE      DUST. 

posing  any  connection  with  a  corsair — a  connection 
which,  if  once  formed,  would  bring  before  the  city  the 
imperial  fleet  of  Spain  and  Naples,  and  perhaps  em 
broil  them  with  the  Turks.  Barat  was  terribly  enraged 
at  the  result  of  his  application  to  the  council.  His 
vanity  was  mortified  by  the  reprimand  he  had  receiv 
ed  ;  and  Dragut  found  him  in  a  mood  that  disposed 
him  to  listen  to  any  propositions. 

Everything  was  arranged  between  them.  In  pur 
suance  of  the  plan  agreed  upon,  Dragut  withdrew  from 
the  city ;  and  in  order  to  wipe  off  the  remembrance 
of  his  design,  and  disperse  the  jealousy  which  the  ma 
gistrates  might  entertain  on  that  account,  several  weeks 
were  suffered  to  elapse  before  any  further  move  was 
attempted. 

When  all  suspicion  had  been  quieted,  Dragut  col 
lected  the  troops  he  had  in  Susa  and  Monester,  and 
one  dark  night  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  com 
manded  by  Barat.  The  sally-port  was  thrown  open, 
and  Dragut  led  his  men  through  it  into  the  tower,  and 
thence  into  the  town — advancing  to  the  principal  points, 
and  taking  up  commanding  positions,  without  exciting 
any  alarm.  Morning  showed  the  citizens  the  misfor 
tunes  that  had  befallen  them.  With  desperate  resolu 
tion  they  ran  to  arms;  but  all  was  confusion,  and,  as  is 
usual  in  such  cases,  they  fought  with  more  impetu 
osity  than  conduct.  The  corsairs  had  the  advantage  of 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.          151 

discipline  and  coolness  ;  and  after  a  number  of  citi 
zens  were  killed,  the  rest  were  compelled  to  lay  down 
their  arms,  and  acknowledge  for  their  sovereign  a  man 
whom,  but  a  short  time  before,  they  had  refused  to 
receive  as  a  citizen. 

Additional  troops  were  brought  into  the  town;  the 
several  towers  all  strongly  garrisoned,  and  the  autho 
rity  of  the  corsair  so  firmly  established,  that  no  hope 
remained  to  the  citizens  of  the  recovery  of  their  li 
berty.  Dragut  having  put  the  fortifications  in  com 
plete  order,  and  filled  the  magazines  and  arsenals,  ap 
pointed  his  nephew,  young  Eais  Esse,  to  the  command 
of  the  garrison,  while  he  himself  departed  on  a  cruize. 
His  parting  injunction  to  the  young  governor  is  emi 
nently  illustrative  of  the  character  of  a  Turkish  corsair. 

"That  Moor,  Barat,  is  a  dangerous  man,"  whis 
pered  Dragut.  "  You  must  see  that  he  is  properly 
disposed  of." 

"He  let  us  into  the  city,"  said  Rais  Esse*,  looking 
at  his  uncle  inquiringly. 

"He  did  so,"  replied  Dragut,  demurely  stroking 
his  long  black  beard.  "  He  is  a  terrible  traitor  to  this 
good  city  of  ours.  You  must  see  to  it  that  he  does 
not  betray  it  again." 

The   young  rais  passed  his   hand  around  his   throat. 

Dragut  replied  with  a  grave  nod. 


152  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  Your  will  is  law,"  exclaimed  his  nephew.  "  It 
shall  be  done." 

A  few  hours  afterwards  Dragut's  streamers  disap 
peared  in  the  distant  horizon ;  and  that  night  the  Moor 
Barat  went  to  sup  with  the  rais,  and  was  choked  to 
death— whether  by  a  bone  or  a  bow-string  could  not 
be  accurately  ascertained. 


DRAQUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  153 


CHAPTEE   IY. 


THE  news  of  the  taking  of  Mahedia  gave  great  un 
easiness  to  the  emperor,  as  well  as  to  all  the  towns  on 
the  northern  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  Charles  saw 
plainly  that  Dragut's  power,  already  formidable,  would 
be  vastly  increased  by  the  possession  of  so  strong  a 
naval  depot,  to  which  he  could  retreat  with  his  prizes, 
and  from  whence  he  could  annoy,  almost  with  impunity, 
the  coasts  of  Naples  and  Sicily.  To  prevent  this  the 
emperor  resolved  to  besiege  the  place  without  delay, 
before  the  corsair  had  time  to  settle  himself  more  firm 
ly  in  it.  The  enterprise,  however,  was  acknowledged 
to  be  difficult,  and  it  was  decided  in  council  that  the 
best  way  of  beginning  it  would  be  to  retake  posses 
sion  of  Susa  and  Monester,  from  whence  the  corsairs 
drew  their  supplies. 

D'Oria  was  ordered  immediately  to  sea  with  a  pow 
erful  fleet,  which  was  further  strengthened  by  the  Pope's 
galleys,  and  by  several  galleys  of  Malta.  One  hundred 

7* 


154  ROMANCE     DUST. 

and  forty  experienced  knights,  under  the  command  of  the 
Balif  de  la  Sangle,  and  a  battalion  of  four  hundred  of 
the  common  soldiers  of  the  Order,  constituted  the  strength 
of  the  reinforcement.  The  Spanish  admiral  got  under 
way,  and  stood  over  to  the  African  shore,  expecting, 
upon  information  he  had  received,  to  find  Dragut  at 
Monester.  But  the  experienced  corsair  was  not  to  be 
caught  so  easily  a  second  time.*  He  knew  better  than 
to  shut  himself  up  in  so  weak  a  place,  and  had  taken 
to  the  open  sea.  Knowing  that  D'Oria  had  not  troops 
enough  on  board  to  establish  the  siege  of  so  strong  a 
place  as  Mahedia,  he  gave  himself  no  concern  about 
the  Spanish  admiral's  proceedings,  but  stood  over  to 
the  defenceless  coasts  of  Spain,  where  he  committed 
his  usual  ravages.  Town  after  town  was  attacked  and 
sacked ;  and  many  an  unfortunate  captive  had  reason 
to  regret  an  expedition  which  had  drawn  the  Christian 
fleets  so  far  from  their  own  coasts. 

In  the  meanwhile  D'Oria,  following  the  orders  of 
the  imperial  council,  landed  his  troops  at  Cape  Bon, 
seized  upon  Kalibia,  the  ancient  Aspis  or  Clypea,  and 
thence  advanced  to  the  gates  of  Monester.  The  inhabi 
tants  encouraged  by  the  small  number  of  his  troops, 
made  a  sally,  mainly  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitering. 
They  were  charged  vigorously  by  the  Knights  of  Malta, 
and  compelled  to  come  to  an  engagement,  when  they 
were  routed,  and  followed  so  closely  that  the  Christians 


DBA  GUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  155 

entered  the  gates  with  them,  and  made  themselves  mas 
ters  of  the  town.  The  remainder  of  the  garrison  and 
citizens  took  refuge  in  the  castle. 

D'Oria  summoned  the  governor  to  surrender,  and 
upon  his  refusal,  erected  his  batteries  and  opened  a  fire 
upon  the  fort.  As  soon  as  a  breach  appeared,  D'Oria, 
without  waiting  to  examine  it,  ordered  an  assault.  This 
precipitation  led  to  the  loss  of  many  lives,  especially 
among  the  knights  who  led  the  attack.  The  governor 
of  the  castle  was  a  sturdy  old  corsair ;  and  had  he  not 
been  killed  in  the  breach  by  a  musket  ball,  after  the 
battle  had  raged  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  assailants 
would  have  been  defeated.  As  it  was,  the  Christians 
suffered  terribly,  and  of  the  knights  nearly  all  were 
killed  or  wounded. 

Costly  as  was  this  conquest  of  one  little  castle,  it 
was  looked  upon  by  the  emperor  as  an  omen  of  suc 
cess,  and  D'Oria  was  ordered  to  make  every  preparation 
for  the  siege  of  Dragut's  stronghold  at  Mahedia.  The 
viceroys  of  Naples  and  Sicily  were  ordered  to  supply 
men  and  ammunition. 

While  waiting  for  the  reinforcements  which  they 
were  to  send,  D'Oria  removed  his  fleet  to  an  anchor 
age  among  some  little  islands  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Mahedia,  in  order  to  prevent  Dragut  from  throwing  any 
additional  force  into  the  town  j  but  his  design  was  frus 
trated  by  the  necessity  of  attending  the  viceroy  of  Si- 


156 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


oily,  Don  Juan  de  Vega,  who  had  written  to  him  that 
he  was  getting  ready  a  strong  force  which,  considering 
the  interest  that  Sicily  had  in  the  destruction  of  the  cor 
sairs,  he  was  determined  to  command  in  person.  But 
as  it  would  take  some  time  before  all  his  preparations 
could  be  finished,  and  as  Dragut  was  scouring  the  seas 
with  several  squadrons,  in  order  to  surprise  the  Chris 
tian  vessels,  and  ruin  the  enterprise,  he  insisted  that 
tho  admiral  should  appoint  the  general  rendezvous  of 
the  fleets  at  Drepano,  from  whence  the  united  sea  forces 
of  the  emperor  could  sail  without  fear  of  having  any 
of  their  transports  and  store-ships  picked  up  by  the 
indefatigable  Dragut. 

D'Oria  was  exceedingly  chagrined  to  be  compelled 
to  give  up  the  blockade  of  Mahedia ;  but  Don  Juan 
was  an  experienced  officer,  and  a  great  favorite  with  the 
emperor,  and  the  admiral's  private  orders  were  to  do 
nothing  in  the  matter  of  the  siege  without  his  advice. 
The  admiral  was  compelled  to  weigh  anchor,  and  pro 
ceed  to  Palermo;  whence,  in  company  with  Juan  dc 
Vega,  he  sailed  to  Drepano,  at  which  place  he  found 
the  armaments  of  Naples  and  Malta  waiting  his  arrival. 
Every  reader  of  history  has  noticed  what  an  im 
portant  part  petty  official  vanity— the  mere  jealousy  of 
rank— has  frequently  played  in  the  affairs  of  the  world. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  enumerate  a  tithe  of  the  well 
laid  plans  which  have  been  thwarted,  or  the  military 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  157 

and  naval  expeditions  which  have  been  defeated,  solely 
from  divisions  and  disagreements  on  the  most  trivial 
questions  of  rank  and  precedence.  So  true  is  this,  that 
the  jealousies  of  generals  is  an  element  which  must  not 
be  neglected,  even  in  the  present  day,  in  estimating 
the  probability  of  any  military  success.  D'Oria  found, 
to  his  great  grief,  upon  his  arrival  at  Drepano,  that 
this  element  demanded  his  whole  attention. 

The  Neapolitan  troops,  consisting  of  twenty-four  gal 
leys,  and  several  transports,  with  land  troops,  were  com 
manded  by  Don  Garcia,  son  of  Don  Pedro  de  Toledo, 
viceroy  of  Naples.  This  young  man  had  flattered  him 
self  with  the  hope  of  being  sole  commander  of  the  land 
forces,  and  of  having  the  whole  conduct  of  the  siege. 
When  he  found  that  the  viceroy  of  Sicily  had  resolved 
to  command  the  reinforcements  he  brought  with  him 
in  person,  young  Garcia  reembarked  his  troops,  resolv 
ing  to  go  on  a  separate  expedition  against  Dragut,  ra 
ther  than  share  the  honors  of  a  command  with  his  equal 
in  rank,  and  his  superior  in  age  and  renown. 

The  admiral  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in  recon 
ciling  the  pretensions  of  the  two  haughty  dons ;  but  at 
length,  after  several  days  negotiations,  in  which  De  la 
Sangle,  the  commander  of  the  Maltese,  took  an  active 
part,  the  affair  was  settled.  It  was  arranged  that  each 
should  retain  command  of  his  own  troops  indepen 
dent  of  the  other,  and  that  a  council  of  war  should 


158  ROMANCE      DUST. 

represent  the  imperial  name,  and  determine,  by   a  ma 
jority  of  voices,   the  operations  of  the  siege. 

Dragut,  in  the  meantime,  had  not  been  idle.  A 
strong  reinforcement  was  thrown  into  the  town,  com 
manded  by  some  of  his  best  officers,  and  every  prepa 
ration  made  for  a  stout  defence.  He  himself  remained 
at  sea,  ready  to  pounce  upon  any  straggling  galleys, 
intercept  supplies,  and  in  every  possible  way  interfere 
with  the  operations  of  the  besiegers. 

It  is  quite  probable  that  not  a  dozen  readers  of  this 
sketch  have  ever  heard  of  Mahedia,  or  of  this  famous 
siege;  but  at  the  time  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  were 
drawn  towards  it,  and  men  listened  with  a  degree  of 
anxiety  proportioned  to  their  fears  of  the  arch  corsair, 
for  news  of  the  capture  and  destruction  of  his  strong 
hold.  In  consideration  of  the  former  interest  in  the 
subject,  and  the  present  ignorance  of  the  general  reader 
in  relation  to  it,  we  may  be  excused  for  abridging  from 
the  historians  of  the  period  an  account  of  the  principal 
events  of  the  expedition. 

Without  opposition  or  difficulty  D'Oria  landed  his 
troops  and  artillery.  The  city  was  invested,  trench 
es  opened,  batteries  mounted,  and  a  fire  opened  upon 
the  walls.  The  magistrates  and  principal  citizens  of 
the  town,  seeing  the  strength  of  the  Spanish  forces, 
and  not  being  any  too  well  satisfied  with  the  govern 
ment  of  the  corsair,  were  disposed  to  capitulate,  but 


DRAGUT,      THE      CORSAIR. 


159 


young    Rais    Esse    drove    all    such   thoughts    from    their 
heads  with  the  point  of  his  dagger. 

"Dare  to  mention  the  word  capitulate  again,"  ex 
claimed  the  resolute  rover,  flourishing  his  weapon,  "and 
I  will  stab  you  with  my  own  hand,  and  then  set  fire 
to  the  city.  To  capitulate  would  be  your  destruction. 
Think  you  that  the  Christians  would  leave  you  the  ex 
ercise  of  your  religion,  and  the  enjoyment  of  your 
wealth  1  Fools  as  well  as  cowards !  Everything  that 
is  dear  to  you  is  at  stake.  You  must  fight  for  your 
lives — your  religion — your  wives  and  children,  and  pro 
perty." 

The  rais  went  on  to  encourage  their  hopes  of  a  suc 
cessful  resistance ;  pointing  out  the  strength  of  the  town, 
and  telling  them  that  he  had  a  force  of  seventeen  hun 
dred  foot  and  six  hundred  horse,  with  which,  in  con 
junction  with  their  aid,  he  felt  confident  of  making  a 
good  defence.  The  magistrates  silenced,  but  not  con 
vinced,  were  forced  to  submit ;  but  the  populace,  urged 
by  religious  zeal,  sided  readily  with  the  rais.  To  con 
firm  their  enthusiasm,  he  ordered  a  sortie  of  cavalry, 
supported  by  three  hundred  arquebusiers  and  some  light 
field  pieces.  The  sallying  party  advanced  to  a  rising 
ground,  and  opened  a  spirited  fire  upon  the  Christians. 
Don  Garcia,  whose  quarters  'lay  nearest,  rushed  with  a 
part  of  his  force  to  dislodge  them  from  their  position, 
when  a  warm  and  obstinate  skirmish  ensued.  The  rais 


160  ROMANCE      DUST. 

despatched   six   hundred   men  to    the  support  of  troops, 
who,    thus   reinforced,    made    terrible  havoc    among   the 
Neapolitans.     The   viceroy    De  Vega  was   not   sorry   to 
see   the  young  don  receive   such  a  check ;  but  he  could 
not   quietly    stand   by    and   permit   the   Neapolitan    sol 
diers  to  be    entirely  destroyed.     The  soldiers   of  Malta, 
with  La  Sangle   at    their  head,   were    despatched  to  the 
rescue.     Their  presence  turned  the  tide  of  battle.     Sword 
in  hand,  they  charged  the  Moors,  who,  unable  to  with 
stand  the  disciplined  impetuosity  of  the  veteran  soldiers 
of  the  cross,  broke  and  fled;   the  infantry  getting  back 
into   town,  and    the    cavalry    galloping    away    across  the 
plain  to  a  forest  of  olives,  in  which   they    disappeared. 
As  soon  as  a  breach  appeared  in   the  wall  running 
across   the  land    side,   the  viceroy   determined    upon    an 
assault,   notwithstanding   the   unfavorable    report    of  the 
engineers,  who    announced   that  within  the   breach  were 
strong    entrenchments,  well   flanked  and    defended.     He, 
however,    fancying  the   reports    to    be   exaggerated,  per 
suaded   his    officers    to   appoint  the    ensuing   Friday    for 
the  assault;   and  in  the  interval   the  fire  of  the  battery 
was    redoubled,   in    order    to    widen    the    breach.       On 
Friday,    two    hours   before   daybreak,    the   viceroy,   who 
was  for  having  all  the  honor  of  the  enterprise  to  him 
self,  advanced   with  his  ow-n   troops   to   the  foot  of  the 
wall,  notwithstanding  the  undisputed  right  of  the  knights 
to   head  all  attacks. 


DKAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  161 

The  assault  was  most  unfortunate.  The  Sicilians 
advanced  with  courage,  and  were  received  with  a  terri 
ble  fire,  despite  of  which  they  pushed  up  to  the  top  of 
the  breach,  and  gallantly  threw  themselves  over  into  the 
ditch  between  the  wall  and  the  inner  intrenchments. 
Here  a  flanking  fire  swept  them  down,  until  but  a  sin 
gle  man  remained,  whose  life  was  spared  in  order  to 
obtain  from  him  some  information  of  the  designs  of 
the  Christians.  Other  troops  advanced  to  the  support 
of  those  in  the  breach  ;  but  with  no  better  success. 
Already  many  of  the  bravest  men  had  perished,  and 
the  generals,  to  prevent  the  loss  of  any  more,  were 
compelled  to  order  a  retreat. 

The  ardor  of  the  besiegers  was  very  much  dampened 
by  the  result  of  this  assault.  The  dejected  soldiery 
did  not  dare  to  speak  of  raising  the  siege,  but  they  saw 
plainly  enough  that  it  would  take  a  long  time  ;  and 
already  their  provisions  were  beginning  to  fail,  and  camp 
fevers  to  show  themselves.  Luckily  the  Knights  of  Mal 
ta  were  present.  In  obedience  to  the  orders  and  exam 
ple  of  La  Sangle,  they  established  hospitals  in  their 
tents,  and  nursed  the  sick  soldiers  with  unremitting  at 
tention  and  kindness. 

The  circumstances  which  had  depressed  the  besieg 
ers  gave  additional  confidence  to  the  soldiers  of  the  gar 
rison  ;  and  their  spirits  were  still  further  raised  by  the 
safe  arrival  of  two  stout  swimmers,  bearing  letters  from 


162  ROMANCE     DUST. 

Dragut,  in  which  he  announced  his  landing  on  the  coast 
a  few  miles  to  the  west,  with  eight  hundred  men,  and 
his  intention  of  attempting  to  surprise  the  Christians  in 
carnp  on  St.  James'  day,  when  he  supposed  their  watch 
fulness  would  be  relaxed  by  the  usual  festivities  of  the 
occasion.  :  ;• 

Pursuant  to  this  well  laid  plan,  Dragut  secreted  him 
self  in  a  spacious  forest  of  olive  trees,  not  far  from  the 
town.  Luckily  for  the  Christians,  they  were  in  the  ha 
bit  of  visiting  this  wood  almost  daily,  for  fuel  and  fa 
scines,  and  chance  brought  on  an  engagement  sooner 
than  Dragut  had  proposed.  In  this  forest  there  was  an 
old  summer  palace  of  Mahedi,  the  founder  of  the  city, 
and  it  was  from  one  of  its  turrets  that  Dragut  was  re- 
connoitering  the  Christian  camp,  when  he  saw  an  unu 
sually  strong  detachment  issue  forth,  and  take  up  its 
line  of  march  towards  him.  Some  suspicion  had  been 
excited  in  the  minds  of  certain  renegade  Moors  serv 
ing  in  the  Christian  camp,  by  the  uncommon  boldness 
of  the  country  people  in  advancing  to  skirmish ;  and 
although  the  Spanish  officers  had  no  apprehension  of 
Dragut's  presence,  it  was  thought  prudent  to  visit  the 
wood  in  stronger  force  than  usual.  The  viceroy  led 
the  detachment  in  person,  and  La  Sangle  accompanied 
it  with  his  knights. 

Dragut  kept  quiet  until   the  Christians  were  almost 
upon  him,  when  suddenly  pouring  in  a  volley  of  mus- 


D  R  A  G  U  T 


163 


ketry,  he  rushed  out  and  charged  the  Christians  sword 
in  hand.  The  surprise  was  complete,  and  with  any 
other  soldiers  than  the  famous  Knights  of  Malta  would 
have  been  most  disastrous.  These  sturdy  old  warriors 
did  not  allow  their  ranks  to  fall  into  confusion.  They 
formed  their  lines  steadily,  and  received  Dragut's  charge 
without  wavering.  The  conflict  was  long,  obstinate,  and 
bloody.  Dragut's  Moorish  auxiliaries — two  or  three 
thousand  in  number — coming  up,  the  viceroy  had  great 
difficulty  in  withdrawing  his  troops  from  the  wood,  and 
regaining  the  plain,  where  he  was  followed  by  Dragut, 
who,  however,  finding  that  no  further  advantage  was 
to  be  gained,  ordered  a  retreat.  While  this  was  going 
on,  the  camp  was  also  a  scene  of  confusion.  Upon 
hearing  the  news  of  the  battle  in  the  forest,  Rais  Esse 
issued  from  the  city,  penetrated  the  Christian  lines,  and 
attacked  Don  Garcia,  who  was  in  command.  The  young 
nobleman  behaved  with  great  coolness  and  prudence; 
but  it  was  only  after  a  desperate  conflict  that  he  com 
pelled  the  corsairs  to  retreat  within  the  gates. 

The  prospects  of  the  besiegers  were  now  of  the 
most  gloomy  description.  The  batteries  kept  up  a  con 
tinued  fire;  but  the  walls  were  so  thick  and  the  breach 
es  so  small,  and  so  well  guarded  by  interior  entrench 
ments,  that  the  council  of  war  did  not  dare  to  order 
another  assault.  On  the  contrary,  the  question  of  rais 
ing  the  siege  began  to  be  agitated.  To  this  movement 


164  ROMANCE     BUST. 

no  officer  was  so  strongly  opposed  as  the  young  and 
enthusiastic  Don  Garcia.  Greedy  of  glory,  his  high 
spirit  could  ill  bear  the  idea  of  taking  back  to  the 
vice-regal  court  of  Naples  nothing  but  the  shame  of  de 
feat.  "  Never !"  he  exclaimed  energetically  to  the  Nea 
politan  officers,  "will  I  consent  to  such  dishonor;  sooner 
will  I  lay  my  bones  in  these  trenches.  But,  fear  not, 
the  saints  will  yet  befriend  us — that  is,  if  we  keep  our 
batteries  playing  vigorously.  I  feel  a  presentiment 
that  a  way  through  those  walls  will  shortly  be  opened 
to  us." 

"Perhaps,"  replied  an  officer  who  had  just  entered 
the  tent,  "  here  is  one  who  can  inform  your  excellency 
where  the  opening  is  to  be  made.  He  is  a  Moresco — a 
deserter  from  the  town.  He  says  that  he  has  valuable 
information,  which  he  will  communicate  only  to  the 
commander-in-chief." 

The  Moor  was  admitted  ;  when  to  Don  Garcia's 
questions  he  replied  that  a  detestation  of  the  corsairs, 
and  a  desire  to  see  them  driven  out  of  the  city,  had 
induced  him  to  seek  the  Spanish  commander,  and  point 
out  a  place  in  the  walls  where  a  breach  could  be  made 
with  effect. 

The  spot  indicated  as.  being  much  weaker  than  the 
rest  was  a  portion  of  the  wall  washed  by  the  sea,  which 
had  been  neglected  by  the  garrison,  under  the  idea 
that  the  sand  bars  would  prevent  any  vessels  from  ap- 


DRAGUT,     THE      CORSAIR.  165 

preaching  it.  Don  Garcia's  plans  were  instantly  formed. 
Taking  two  old  flat-bottomed  hulks,  he  covered  them  with 
a  platform,  mounted  his  guns,  and  shoved  this  floating 
battery  up  to  within  breaching  distance  of  the  wall. 
In  a  few  hours,  such  was  the  rapidity  and  force  of  the 
fire,  a  practicable  breach  was  made,  and  an  assault 
ordered. 

No  precautions  this  time  were  wanting.  The  Knights 
of  Malta,  pursuant  to  custom  and  the  privilege  of  that 
illustrious  order,  had  the  post  of  honor  assigned  them, 
and  advanced  to  the  storm.  The  commander  Giou, 
supported  by  two  files  of  the  oldest  knights,  bore  the 
standard  of  the  cross.  Following  him  came  the  chi 
valrous  Guimeran  and  Copier,  with  the  younger  knights 
and  volunteers.  Pour  companies  of  the  Maltese  batta 
lion,  with  La  Sangle,  and  a  few  of  the  oldest  knights, 
brought  up  the  rear  of  this  gallant  storming  party. 

To  distract  the  attention  of  the  enemy,  the  viceroy 
and  Don  Garcia  led  their  troops  to  the  assault  of  the 
breaches  in  the  land  wall.  A  cannon  shot  gave  the 
signal  for  the  assault.  The  Knights  of  St.  John  ad 
vanced  in  light  boats ;  but  finding  their  progress  conti 
nually  impeded  by  sand  bars,  with  characteristic  in 
trepidity  they  leaped  into  the  water,  and  waded  for 
ward,  amid  showers  of  grape-shot,  musket-balls,  arrows, 
stones,  fire-pots,  and  boiling  oil.  On  went  the  standard 
of  the  order,  and  up  to  the  breach,  despite  the  despe- 


166  ROMANCE     DUST. 

rate  resistance  of  the  Moors,  pressed  its  guard  of  grim, 
grizzly,  war-worn  veterans,  followed  by  their  more  youth 
ful  companions.  The  top  of  the  breach  was  gained. 
De  Giou  was  at  the  moment  struck  by  a  musket 
ball  ;'  but  the  sacred  banner  was  instantly  seized  by 
Copier,  and  supported  steadily  aloft,  above  the  tumult 
of  the  fight — a  mark  for  a  furious  storm  of  musketry 
and  crossbow  shot.  The  situation  of  the  knights  was 
now  eminently  critical.  It  was  impossible  to  advance 
any  further,  or  to  reach  the  Moors,  who  had  retreated 
to  their  entrenchments.  The  cannon  from  the  neighbor 
ing  tower  increased  the  havoc  making  in  their  ranks. 
Many  of  the  best  knights  had  fallen.  Still  there  was 
no  flinching — no  movement  towards  a  retreat.  With 
the  utmost  coolness  they  sought  for  some  passage 
through  the  ruins.  At  length  De  Guimeran  discovered 
the  entrance  to  a  ruined  gallery,  leading  into  the  body 
of  the  place.  Loud  rose  again  the  battle-cry  of  the 
order.  "Ho!  -for  St.  John!  and  down  with  the  Infi 
del  !"  shouted  the  knights,  as  they  forced  their  way  tow 
ards  the  gallery.  Again  a  terrible  hand  to  hand  strug 
gle  took  place  ;  but  onward,  onward,  surging  and 
swaying,  but  ever  advancing,  the  compact  band  worked 
its  way  over  the  ruins.  The  Moors  are  driven  aside, 
or  cut  down  and  trampled  under  foot.  The  knights 
reach  the  entrance  of  the  gallery.  De  Guimeran  leads 
the  way,  and  rushes  across  the  broken  joists  and  beams 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  167 

•with  as  much  resolution  as  he  would  have  done  over  a 
stone  bridge.  His  companions  lag  not  behind ;  with 
irresistable  impulse  they  burst  through  all  further  de 
fences  ;  and  the  standard  of  St.  John  waves  within 
the  doomed  city. 

As  usual  in  such  cases,  a  panic  took  place  among 
the  citizens.  The  defences  of  the  city  were  deserted, 
and  over  them  poured  the  troops  of  the  viceroy  and 
Don  Garcia.  The  Moors  took  refuge  in  their  houses 
and  public  buildings,  from  whence  they  kept  up  a  des 
perate  resistance.  But  it  availed  not ;  the  indomitable 
knights  pressed  them  from  point  to  point — drove  them 
from  the  castle  and  custom  house,  and  finally  forced 
them  to  lay  down  their  arms  and  beg  for  their  lives. 
Ten  thousand  captives,  and  an  immense  booty,  rewarded 
the  gallantry  of  the  victors.  Among  the  captives  was 
the  gallant  young  rais,  who,  until  he  was  ransomed  by 
his  uncle,  had  to  expiate  the  sin  of  defeat  at  the  oar 
of  a  Maltese  galley.* 

*  The  reader  may,  perhaps,  be  curious  as  to  the  final  fate  of 
this  fine  city,  which  so  narrowly  missed  becoming,  under  Dragut, 
the  capital  of  a  flourishing  piratical  state  ;  if  so,  see  Appendix  for 
an  extract  from  Marmol's  Africa,  translated  by  Morgan  for  his 
quaint  old  history  of  Algiers. 


168  ROMANCE     DUST. 


CHAPTEK  Y. 


THE  rage  and  mortification  of  Dragut  may  be  ima 
gined  when  he  learned  that  his  newly  established  strong 
hold  had  yielded  to  the  fiery  ardor  of  the  knights,  and 
that  with  it  had  fled  his  well-founded  hopes  of  sove 
reign  power. 

"  The  knights  !  the  knights  !"  exclaimed  the  en 
raged  corsair,  pulling  his  beard  with  one  hand,  and 
shaking  the  other  in  the  direction  of  the  island.  "The 
knights  !  May  the  curse  of  the  Prophet  rest  upon 
the  rock  they  inhabit !  They  are  the  cause  of  it  all. 
Without  them,  not  a  Christian  eye  had  dared  look  at 
the  bastions  of  Mahedia.  But  I  will  have  revenge." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  replied  one  of  a  group  of  excited 
Turks  gathered  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  admiral's  gal 
ley;  "we  will  sweep  up  their  wheat  vessels  from 
Sicily." 

"More  than  that!"    fiercely  replied  Dragut. 


DRAGUT,     THE      CORSAIR.  109 

"We   will   drive  their  galleys   from   the    sea,"    con 
tinued  the  speaker. 

"More  than  that,"  rejoined  Dragut.  ."Aye,  by 
my  beard,  and  by  the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  I  will 
crush  the  dogs  in  their  kennel.  And  to  that  end  I 
commit  these  letters  for  our  lord  the  sultan  to  your 
care,  Rais  Harre.  You  have  a  swift  galley :  up  anchor, 
and  away  with  all  speed  to  Constantinople.  Deliver 
them  to  the  grand  signior  yourself.  Say  to  him  that 
the  loss  of  Mahedia  is  not  mine.  Tell  him  that  these 
knights  must  be  driven  from  Malta,  as  they  were  from 
Ehodes;  that  they  are  the  tools  of  Spain,  and  without 
them,  the  great  enemy  of  our  faith,  Charles,  would  be 
powerless.  See  to  it,  rais,  and  bring  me  the  favorable 
decision  of  our  master.  And,"  continued  Dragut,  draw 
ing  the  rais  aside,  "  see  that  the  hinges  of  the  Porte 
are  well  oiled.  For  that  purpose  here  are  bills  on  the 
Armenians  for  one  hundred  thousand  ducats;  and  here 
is  a  memorandum  of  the  proportions  in  which  they  are 
to  be  applied." 

In  obedience  to  his  directions  the  rais  got  his  galley 
in  motion,  and  made  his  way  with  all  speed  to  Con 
stantinople.  The  arguments  and  money  of  Dragut  had 
a  powerful  influence ;  and  soon  the  rumor  began  to 
spread  throughout  the  Mediterranean  of  an  extraordi 
nary  degree  of  activity  in  the  Turkish  arsenals  and  dock- 
yards.  Preparations  for  war  on  so  grand  a  scale  could 

8 


170  ROMANCE     DUST. 

not  long  be  concealed,  although  for  awhile  it  was 
doubtful  upon  what  quarter  of  Christendom  the  storm 
would  burst. 

Dragut  was  known  to  be  chief  mover  in  the  whole 
affair.  It  was  his  energy,  his  money,  and  his  personal  in 
fluence  that  were  threatening  the  emperor  with  a  war  to 
which  he  was  but  ill  disposed.  Charles  and  his  advisers 
imagined  that  if  they  could  get  the  arch  corsair  once 
more  in  their  power,  that  Suleiman,  deprived  of  his 
most  able  and  energetic  officer,  would  be  disposed  to 
peace. 

Orders  were  accordingly  issued  to  D'Oria  to  pro 
ceed  to  sea  with  all  the  force  he  could  collect,  and 
once  more  seek  out  Dragut,  and  either  capture  or  de 
stroy  him.  With  twenty-two  royal  galleys,  besides 
numerous  smaller  vessels,  the  imperial  admiral  set  sail 
for  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to 
make  a  rapid  run. 

Dragut  was  lying  at  this  time  at  port  in  the  lit 
tle  island  off  Jerba,  situated  on  the  African  coast,  about 
midway  between  Tripoli  and  Tunis.  It  was  so  early 
in  the  season — the  month  of  March — that  he  did  not 
dream  of  the  appearance  of  an  enemy  in  force.  His 
own  galleys  were  partly  disarmed,  while  leisurely  re 
fitting  for  the  spring  cruise. 

Not  a  little  astonished  and  mortified  was  the  expe 
rienced  corsair  when  the  imperial  fleet  suddenly  showed 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  171 

itself  off  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  and  he  found  him 
self  caught  in  a  trap  similar  to  the  one  into  which  he 
had  fallen  on  the  coast  of  Corsica.  At  the  first  news 
of  the  approach  of  the  Christians,  he  hurried  to  where 
he  could  obtain  a  view  of  them,  and  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  as  if  confounded,  stood  silently  watching  them 
as  they  came  to  anchor  just  at  the  entrance  of  the  long 
winding  port.  His  officers  gathered  around  him,  anxious 
to  catch  the  slightest  expression  of  hope  or  fear. 

"  Allah !  what  a  fate  awaits  us  !"  groaned  one. 
"We  shall  be  all  made  slaves." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Dragut.  "The  Christian  oar 
is  not  numbered,  and  never  will  be,  to  which  these 
hands  will  be  again  attached.  Come,  we  will  show  these 
dogs  a  good  front.  Let  the  galleys  that  are  afloat  sweep 
down  to  this  bend  of  the  channel,  and  open  a  fire,  while 
the  rest  of  you  bring  a  few  pieces  of  artillery  to  this 
point.  We  will  see  how  they  like  the  salute  we  give 
them." 

Dragut's  orders  were  obeyed  with  promptness,  and 
soon  a  fire  was  opened  upon  the  Christians  that  com 
pelled  them  to  raise  their  anchors,  and  take  up  a  posi 
tion  further  off  from  the  shore,  though  still  near  enough 
to  prevent  all  egress  from  the  harbor.  With  his  usual 
promptitude  he  marked  out  a  fortification  commanding 
the  channel,  arid  before  the  next  morning  it  was  com 
plete,  with  its  guns  mounted  in  battery,  the  fire  from 


172  ROMANCE     DUST. 

which  compelled  the  Spanish  admiral  to  draw  still  fur 
ther  off.  If  Dragut  could  not  get  out,  D'Oria  could 
not  get  in,  and  so  far  they  were  even ;  although  the  ad 
miral  had  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  send  to  Sicily 
for  a  reinforcement  of  land  forces.  While  waiting 
the  arrival  of  these  he  employed  his  time  examining 
the  coasts  of  the  island,  and  making  sure  that  there 
was  no  outlet  except  the  one  occupied  by  his  fleet.  He 
also  ordered  a  survey  of  the  harbor,  as  far  as  practica 
ble,  so  as  to  enable  his  fleet  to  cooperate  in  the  attack 
of  the  fort  as  soon  as  the  Sicilian  soldiers  should  ar 
rive.  For  this  purpose  a  light  brigantine  was  sent  in 
to  make  out  the  channel  by  stakes,  with  little  flags  af 
fixed  to  them. 

Dragut  was  at  no  loss  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  movements  of  the  brigantine ;  and  no  sooner  was 
her  mission  accomplished  than  he  jumped  into  his  barge, 
and  rowed  down  towards  the  Spanish  fleet,  pulling  up, 
as  he  passed,  the  channel  marks  so  industriously  planted. 
So  rapid  and  energetic  were  his  movements  that,  amid 
a  shower  of  cannon-shot,  he  succeeded  in  undoing  in  a 
few  minutes  the  labor  of  the  Spaniards  for  several  days. 
He  also  threw  up  new  entrenchments  along  the  banks 
of  the  harbor,  furnished  them  with  artillery,  and  manned 
them  with  musketeers;  so  that  not  a  boat  or  light  gal 
ley  could  show  itself  within  the  canal. 

The  Spaniards,  however,  could  well  afford   to  laugh 


DRAGUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  173 

at  all  his  precautions,  knowing  that  when  the  expected 
troops  should  arrive  a  landing  could  be  effected,  and 
his  batteries  either  turned  or  forced.  All  that  was  re 
quired  was  a  little  patience,  and  the  arch  corsair — the 
terror  of  the  Mediterranean — the  most  dangerous  ene 
my  of  the  emperor — would  be  in  their  power. 

The  imperial  officers  were  in  high  spirits,  although 
somewhat  weary  of  the  monotonous  blockade.  Hourly 
they  expected  a  message  from  the  approaching  reinforce 
ment,  and  eagerly  did  they  watch  the  horizon  seaward 
for  the  appearance  of  a  sail.  At  length  their  eyes  were 
gratified  by  the  sight  of  a  distant  galley,  which  gradu 
ally,  as  it  approached,  grew  more  and  more  distinct, 
until  at  last  the  cross  on  her  banner  showed  her  to  be 
a  vessel  of  Malta.  Too  impatient  for  her  tidings  to 
permit  him  to  wait  her  approach,  D'Oria  jumped  aboard 
one  of  his  brigantines,  and  stood  out  to  meet  her.  The 
galley  evidently  bore  news  of  importance,  which  her 
captain  was  anxious  to  deliver.  Every  sail  was  trimmed 
to  the  light  breeze,  and  her  oars  rose  and  fell  in  the 
water  with  a  rapidity  and  energy  seldom  seen  but  in 
a  chase.  She  was  soon  alongside,  and  within  speaking 
distance  of  the  admiral. 

"  What  news !"  demanded  D'Oria. 

"  Bad  enough,"  replied  the  captain  of  the  galley. 
"  I  am  sorry  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  disagreeable 
tidings." 


174  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  Ha  !"  exclaimed  the  impatient  admiral ;  "  has  any 
thing  happened  to  the  armament  of  the  viceroy  1  Ma- 
dre  de  Dios  !  but  that  would  be  bad,  indeed." 

"  Worse  than  that,"  replied  the  captain. 

"How  worse?  The  viceroy  does  not  dare  to  re 
fuse  the  troops  I  demand.  By  heavens  !  I  care  not  if 
he  does,"  continued  D'Oria,  addressing  the  officers 
around  him.  "  We  will  lie  here  until  the  emperor  him 
self  comes  to  our  assistance,  or  till  our  galleys  rot  at 
their  moorings,  sooner  than  let  yonder  rat  out  of  his 
trap  !" 

"  'Tis  not  of  the  viceroy  that  I  bring  bad  news," 
said  the  captain,  hesitating. 

"  Of  the  emperor  ?" 

"  No." 

"  The  Virgin  be  praised  !  Perhaps  of  the  grand 
master  of  your  order1?" 

"  Not  so." 

"  Who,  then  ?"  demanded  D'Oria  impatiently,  for 
getting  that  his  own  interruptions  prevented  the  cap 
tain  from  delivering  his  news. 

"  Of  Dragut." 

"  What  of  him  ?" 

"  He  is  at  sea  with  his  whole  force." 

A  smile  of  incredulity  mantled  the  faces  of  the  im 
perial  officers ;  which,  however,  gradually  subsided  to 


DRAUUT,     THE     CORSAIR.  175 

a  grave  expression  of  anxiety  and  doubt  as  the  Mal 
tese  continued. 

"  We  encountered  him  yesterday,  when  we  were  sail 
ing  in  company  with  the  Padrona  galley  of  Sicily,  which 
was  bringing  a  messenger  from  the  viceroy.  Dragut 
gave  chase,  and  the  Sicilian  was  caught.  We  were 
the  fleetest;  but  we  had  a  narrow  escape." 

"  Santa  Maria  !"  exclaimed  D'Oria.  "  Dragut  at 
sea  1  Impossible  !  Yonder  he  is,  shut  up  with  all  his 
galleys.  It  must  have  been  some  squadron  from  the 
Levant,  that  we  know  nothing  of." 

"  Not  so,"  returned  the  captain.  "  I  know  Dra- 
gut's  galley  well.  I  saw  his  peculiar  signals  flying;  and 
I  heard  his  men,  as  they  boarded  the  Sicilian,  shout 
his  battle-cry." 

"  And  what  was  his  force  ?" 

"Twelve  galleys,   besides  galliots  and   brigantines." 

The  admiral  and  his  officers  looked  at  each  other 
in  astonishment. 

"  Here  is  some  mystification,"  exclaimed  D'Oria — 
"  the  work  of  that  devil  yonder.  He  has  found  some 
way  to  send  for  a  squadron  of  Levant  corsairs,  in  hopes 
to  draw  us  off,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  get  out  of  the 
trap.  But  let  us  weigh  anchor  and  stand  in.  We  will 
soon  see  if  the  old  sea-fox  is  not  in  his  hole." 

The  mortification  of  the  Spanish  officers  may  be  con 
ceived  upon  finding,  as  they  moved  into  the  harbor, 


176 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


that  the}'  were  not  received  with  the  expected  salute 
of  cannon-shot.  They  were  suffered  quietly  to  advance 
until  abreast  of  the  bastion  which  Dragut  had  erected, 
when  they  were  met  by  a  boat  with  a  white  flag,  bear 
ing  a  message  from  the  sheick  of  the  island,  proposing 
to  capitulate,  upon  condition  that  the  lives  and  property 
of  the  islanders  should  be  spared. 

"But  Dragut!     What  of  him?"  demanded  the  Chris 
tians. 

"Gone.     Yesterday   he   put   to    sea   with   his  whole 
force."  1  <.  § 

The  impatient  and  mortified  D'Oria  hastened  to 
land,  when  the  secret  of  Dragut's  flight  was  revealed. 
The  ingenious  and  energetic  corsair,  while  amusing  the 
enemy  with  his  bastions  and  batteries  at  the  mouth 
of  the  harbor,  had  employed  the  chief  part  of  his  forces 
in  grading  a  road  across  the  island— a  distance  of  twelve 
or  fourteen  miles.  Upon  this  road  he  laid  down  a  track 
of  wooden  rails,  and  then,  by  means  of  capstans  and 
pullies,  drew  his  vessels  up  from  the  water  into  cra 
dles,  with  rollers  attached  to  them,  and  shoving  them 
across  the  island,  dropped  them  into  a  canal  leading 
to  the  sea,  which  he  had  dug  to  receive  them.  So 
adroitly  had. he  masked  his  work,  that  the  Spaniards 
had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  what  was  going  on. 
When  all  was  prepared  he  shipped  his  crews,  and 
launched  out  into  the  open  sea,  picking  up  the  Padrone 


DR  AG  U  T, 


177 


galley    almost   within    sight   of   the   imperial    fleet,    and 
then  steering  a  course  for  the  coasts  of  Spain. 

No  event  in  that  age  of  striking  events  produced 
a  greater  sensation  than  this  dexterous  escape  of  the 
great  corsair.  The  reputation  of  Dragut  was  at  its 
height,  and  all  Europe,  from  Constantinople  to  Cadiz, 
was  filled  with  his  renown.  The  Spanish  admiral,  com 
pletely  confounded  by  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  set 
sail  for  Genoa,  after  apprising  the  viceroys  of  Naples 
and  Sicily  that  Dragut  was  at  large,  and  warning  them 
against  exposing  single  galleys  or  small  squadrons  to 
the  danger  of  capture.  To  excuse  himself  from  an  en 
terprise  so  liable  to  failure  as  the  further  pursuit  of 
Dragut,  D'Oria,  it  is  said,  "  made  use  of  the  honorable 
pretext  of  commanding  in  person  the  galleys  appointed 
to  conduct  from  Italy  the  emperor's  only  son,  after 
wards  Philip  II,"  of  Spain. 


8* 


178  ROMANCE     DUST. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


AT  liberty  once  more  to  prosecute  his  plans  for 
revenge  upon  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  Dragut  repaired 
to  Constantinople  to  superintend  in  person  the  prepara 
tion  of  the  expedition  which  his  representations  and 
solicitations  had  induced  the  grand  signior  to  com 
mence.  The  Ottoman  armada  was  soon  in  readiness, 
and,  under  the  command  of  Sinan.  captain-basha,  sailed 
from  the  Dardanelles,  with  instructions  to  attack  Malta 
if  it  should  be  judged  prudent;  otherwise,  to  proceed 
to  Tripoli,  then  a  possession  of  the  Order.  Although 
not  in  command  of  the  expedition,  such  was  the  sul 
tan's  confidence  in  Dragut's  judgment  and  knowledge, 
that  the  strictest  orders  were  issued  to  Sinan  to  take 
no  step  of  importance  without  his  advice. 

In  July,  1551,  the  Turkish  fleet  came  within  sight 
of  Malta.  The  captain-basha  and  his  officers  were 
strongly  in  favor  of  proceeding  at  once  to  Tripoli,  with 
out  making  any  demonstration  against  the  island;  but 


DRAGUT,     THE     COR8AIR.  179 

Dragut  insisted  so  strenuously  upon  landing,  that  Si- 
nan  did  not  dare  refuse.  The  indisposition  of  Sinan, 
however,  to  an  energetic  prosecution  of  the  siege  was 
openly  manifested.  Upon  reconnoitering  the  castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  he  turned  angrily  to  Dragut,  and  exclaimed, 
"Is  this  the  castle  you  have  represented  to  the  grand 
signior  as  so  easy  to  be  taken?  No  eagle  could  have 
chosen  a  less  accessible  rock  to  build  his  nest  upon." 
"  And  yonder  bastion,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  sur 
rounding  group  of  officers.  "  Do  you  see  it,  my  lord  ? 
That  .upon  which  the  knights  have  planted  their  grand 
standard.  You  must  know,  my  lord,  that  when  I  was 
a  slave  here  I  assisted  in  carrying  all  the  great  stones 
of  which  it  is  built;  and  certain  I  am,  that  before  we 
can  batter  it  down,  the  winter  will  be  upon  us,  or, 
still  worse,  powerful  reinforcements,  for  these  dogs  will 

arrive." 

With  a  look  of  indignant  surprise  Dragut  exclaim 
ed:  «  Who  dares  talk  of  failure?  The  castle  of  St.  An 
gelo  is  strong— I  never  denied  it;  but  it  can  be  taken, 
and  it  is  worth  any  risk  or  expense.  If  we  take  it,  we 
shall  capture  the  grand  master  and  all  his  knights,  as 
in  a  net;  when  we  can  crush  them  like  so  many  flies." 

Sinan,  however,  and  his  officers  had  too  lively  an 
apprehension  of  the  difficulties  of  the  enterprise.  They 
knew  that  it  was  not  so  much  the  strength  of  the 
works  as  the  valor  of  their  defenders  that  they  had  to 


180  ROMANCE      DUST. 

fear,  and,  besides,  were  not  urged  on  by  the  personal 
motives  which  actuated  Dragut.  Still,  their  instructions 
would  not  permit  them  to  disregard  his  wishes  entire 
ly,  and,  as  a  compromise,  they  agreed  to  attack  La 
Citta  Notabile,  the  ancient  "  capital  of  the  island,  in 
which  the  greater  part  of  the  natives  had  taken  refuge 
with  their  effects.  This  city  was  accordingly  invested; 
but  the  defence  was  so  vigorous,  and  the  Turks  so  ill 
disposed  to  the  attack,  and  so  much  disturbed  by  ru 
mors  of  the  arrival  of  D'Oria  with  a  powerful  fleet, 
that  it  was  resolved  to  abandon  the  siege,  despite  the 
entreaties  of  Dragut  to  the  contrary. 

The  Turks  left  the  island  after  plundering  and  burn 
ing  several  villages,  and  proceeded  to  the  neighboring  isl 
and  of  Goza,  a  dependency  of  Malta.  The  castle  was  com 
manded  by  the  Chevalier  Galatian  de  Sessa,  who  evinced 
a  degree  of  fear  never  before  exhibited  by  a  Knight 
of  St.  John.  He  actually  deserted  the  walls,  and  se 
creted  himself  in  the  lower  rooms  of  the  castle.  Many 
weary  years  of  captivity  was  the  fitting  punishment  of 
his  cowardice ;  involving  as  it  did  the  lives  and  liber 
ties  of  the  unhappy  islanders,  more  than  six  thousand 
of  whom  were  carried  away  captives. 

From  Goza  the  fleet  sailed  to  Tripoli;  Dragut's  re 
luctance  at  leaving  Malta  being  somewhat  appeased  by 
the  prospect  of  inflicting  a  severe  injury  upon  his  ene- 


DRAGUT,   THE  CORSAIR.          181 

mies,  and  securing  a  stronghold  for  himself  by  the  re 
duction  of  that  place. 

Our  space  will  not  permit  a  description  of  the 
siege ;  which  would  not  be,  however,  if  we  had  room 
for  it,  unaccompanied  by  many  details  of  interest.  Suf 
fice  it  to  say,  that  the  defence  was  conducted  with  re 
solution,  under  the  command  of  the  Marshal  de  Villier, 
but  that  incited  and  aided  by  the  example  and  advice 
of  the  indefatigable  Dragut,  the  siege  was  pushed  with 
so  much  vigor  that  the  Christians  were  compelled  to 
surrender. 

Dragut  was  appointed  governor ;  when  he  at  once 
set  about  rebuilding  the  fortifications,  adding  new  works, 
and  putting  the  city  in  a  position  to  resist  the  efforts 
which  he  knew  his  enemies  would  soon  make  for  its 
recapture.  But  while  engaged  in  this  work  he  did  not 
neglect  his  ordinary  duties.  His  expeditions  to  all  parts 
of  the  Mediterranean  were  frequent  and  destructive. 
Many  towns  were  plundered  and  burned,  thousands  or 
Christians  carried  into  captivity,  and  numerous  valu 
able  prizes  taken  at  sea. 

The  Knights  of  St.  John  had  at  this  time  elected 
the  renowned  Lavellet  grand  master  of  their  order. 
Under  his  wise  and  energetic  government  the  fortifi 
cation  of  the  island,  which  had  been  much  neglected 
by  his  predecessors,  were  strengthened,  and  many  new 
works  built.  The  knights  were  in  high  spirits  at  the 


182  ROMANCE      DUST. 

successful  prosecution  of  these  defences,  when  an  event 
occurred  which  for  a  while  dampened  their  spirits.  A 
hurricane,  of  which  there  had  been  hardly  a  minute's 
warning,  burst  with  irresistable  fury  upon  the  island. 
Most  of  the  galleys  in  port  were  overturned  and  des 
troyed,  and  more  than  six  hundred  persons — among 
whom  were  many  knights  of  distinction — lost  their  lives. 

The  storm  had  hardly  cleared  away  when  Dragut's 
squadron  was  seen  off  the  coast.  The  energetic  old 
corsair  had  hastened  to  take  advantage  of  the  misfor 
tunes  of  his  enemies,  and  had  come  to  pay  them  a 
visit  in  their  defenceless  condition.  He  landed  his  forces, 
plundered  and  destroyed  several  villages,  and  made 
many  slaves.  He  was  not,  however,  permitted  to  es 
cape  unharmed.  Three  hundred  knights,  followed  by 
the  native  militia  of  the  island,  attacked  his  troops  so 
vigorously,  that  it  was  with  considerable  difficulty  that 
he  managed  to  retreat  with  his  spoil. 

The  danger  of  allowing  Dragut  to  establish  himself 
firmly  in  his  new  possession  at  length  aroused  the  im 
perial  court  to  action,  and  an  expedition  against  Tri 
poli  was  resolved  upon.  Philip  II  sent  orders  to  the 
governor  of  the  Milanese,  to  the  governor  of  Naples, 
and  to  John  Andrea  D'Oria,  to  join  their  forces  to 
those  of  the  viceroy  of  Sicily,  and  the  grand  master  of 
Malta,  for  this  purpose.  Upon  hearing,  however,  of 
the  new  fortifications  which  Dragut  had  erected,  the 


DKAGrUT,      THE     CORSAIR.  183 

ardor  of  the  viceroy  suffered  an  abatement,  and  he  pro 
posed  that,  instead  of  attacking  Tripoli,  their  arms 
should  be  directed  against  the  island  of  Gelves.  As 
this  would  be  to  abandon  the  main  object  of  the  ex 
pedition,  it  was  strongly  opposed  by  the  grand  mas 
ter,  who  declared  his  intention  of  withdrawing  his  knights 
in  case  the  design  was  persisted  in.  This  disagreement 
was  for  awhile  patched  up,  upon  the  promise  of  the 
viceroy  to  proceed  at  once  against  Tripoli ;  but  it  was 
an  omen  of  the  troubles  which  attended  the  whole  of 
the  ill-fated  expedition.  The  viceroy  had  not  the  cou 
rage  to  keep  his  promise.  After  losing  several  vessels 
by  a  storm  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tripoli,  the  course 
of  the  fleet  was  changed  for  the  island  of  Gelves,  which, 
formerly  independent,  had  become  a  tributary  to  Dra- 
gut.  A  landing  was  effected  without  difficulty.  An 
attack  by  the  natives  was  vigorously  repulsed,  and  the 
governor  compelled  to  surrender  his  castle. 

Intoxicated  by  this  easy  success,  the  viceroy  boasted 
that  he  was  the  first  general  who  had  done  anything 
towards  enlarging  the  dominions  of  his  master  the  king 
of  Spain ;  and  in  order  to  retain  his  conquest,  he  re 
solved  to  build  a  fort  which  should  defy  the  efforts  of 
the  Moors.  The  prosecution  of  this  work  led  to  great 
delays;  sickness  broke  out  in  the  camp;  D'Oria  was 
taken  ill,  and  numbers  were  carried  to  the  grave.  At 
length  a  powerful  Turkish  fleet  appeared,  and  the  ruin 


184  ROMANCE      DUST. 

of  the  unfortunate  expedition  was  complete.  The  Turks 
took  twenty  galleys  and  fourteen  transports,  while  others 
were  sunk  or  lost  on  the  flats.  A  few  escaped,  and 
among  them  were  three  galleys  of  Malta,  and  the  gal 
ley  of  the  Spanish  admiral. 

The  discomfiture  of  the  Christians  far  from  satisfied 
the  vengeance  of  the  great  corsair.  His  efforts  were 
again  directed  towards  exciting  the  Ottoman  court  to 
a  new  expedition  against  the  knights.  He  was  warmly 
seconded  by  Hassan,  basha  of  Algiers,  and  the  son  and 
successor  of  the  famous  Barbarossa;  by  whom  it  was 
urged  that  the  knights  were  the  most  dangerous  foes 
of  the  Turks,  and  that  the  communication  between 
Barbary  and  Constantinople  would  ultimately  be  cut 
off  entirely,  unless  this  nest  of  Christian  pirates  was 
destroyed. 

Suleiman  was  sensible  of  the  importance  of  this 
conquest;  but  as  it  might  be  attended  with  difficulties, 
he  resolved  to  proceed  with  caution,  and  to  take  no 
step  without  consulting  his  generals.  For  this  purpose 
he  called  a  grand  council  of  war  on  horseback.  Dra- 
gut's  agent,  who  was  present,  represented  that  it  would 
be  the  safest  course  of  proceeding  to  reduce  the  for 
tress  held  by  Spain  in  Barbary,  from  whence  the  knights 
could  draw  succors,  and  then  attack  the  island.  In 
this  opinion  he  was  supported  by  Mohammed  Basha, 
the  oldest  and  most  experienced  of  the  Turkish  gene- 


DKAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  185 

rals,  but  Suleiman  himself  was  in  favor  of  commenc 
ing  with  Malta  ;  and  a  majority  of  his  courtiers,  with 
the  usual  servility  of  their  kind,  supported  his  views. 

Again  did  the  Christian  world  resound  with  rumors 
of  the  vast  armaments  preparing  in  the  Turkish  ports. 
Nothing  was  known  with  certainty  as  to  their  precise 
destination ;  but  the  general  opinion  seemed  to  point 
out  the  Knights  of  St.  John  as  the  intended  victims. 
Luckily,  these  gallant  soldiers  of  the  cross  had  in  John 
de  La  Valette,  a  grand  master  admirably  adapted  to 
the  exigencies  of  the  occasion.  His  courage  and  con 
fidence  rose  as  the  imminence  and  extent  of  the  danger 
manifested  itself;  and  he  had  the  happy  art  of  infusing 
his  own  spirit  into  the  breasts  of  his  companions.  Upon 
receiving  positive  advices  in  relation  to  the  designs  of 
the  Turks,  he  assembled  his  knights,  and  addressed 
them. 

"  A  formidable  army,"  said  he,  "  and  an  infinite 
multitude  of  barbarians,  are  coming  to  thunder  down 
upon  us :  they  are,  my  brethren,  enemies  to  Jesus 
Christ.  It  is  our  business  to  stand  up  manfully  in  de 
fence  of  the  faith;  and  if  the  Gospel  must  submit  to 
the  Koran,  God  demands  back  of  us  a  life  which  we 
have  already  devoted  to  him  by  our  profession.  Thrice 
happy  they  who  shall  first  fall  a  sacrifice  in  so  good 
a  cause.  But  in  order  to  make  ourselves  worthy  of 
that  honor,  let  us  go,  my  brethren,  to  the  altar,  there 


186  ROMANCE     DUST. 

to  renew  our  vows  and  partake  of  the  blessed  sacra 
ments  ;  and  let  the  blood  of  the  Saviour  of  mankind 
inspire  us  with  such  a  noble  contempt  of  death,  as  can 
alone  make  us  invincible." 

A  lively  and  refreshing  sentiment  of  devotion  and 
faith  pervaded  all  ranks.  Several  days  were  employed 
in  religious  services — in  going  to  confession,  and  in 
partaking  of  the  eucharist — rising  up,  as  the  Abbe  Ver- 
tot  says,  "  from  the  Lord's  table  like  new  men.  All 
their  weaknesses  were  repaired  ;  all  divisions,  all  re 
sentments  were  now  laid  aside  ;  and  what  was  still 
more  difficult,  they  broke  off  all  their  tender  engage 
ments,  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  man." 

On  the  18th  of  May,  1665,  the  Turkish  fleet,  con 
sisting  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-nine  galleys,  besides 
transports,  bearing  thirty  thousand  janizaries,  spahis, 
and  other  land  troops,  appeared  off  the  coast.  A  land 
ing  was  effected;  and,  after  much  hesitation  and  seve 
ral  skirmishes,  the  fort  of  St.  Elmo  was  selected  as 
the  principal  point  of  attack. 

The  trenches  were  opened,  and  batteries  mounted; 
when  Dragut,  with  fifteen  vessels  and  sixteen  hundred 
men,  arrived  upon  the  scene.  He  immediately  express 
ed  his  regret  at  their  having  commenced  the  siege  with 
St.  Elmo;  but  when  the  Turkish  generals  offered  to  al 
ter  their  plan  of  operations  in  deference  to  his  judg 
ment,  he  replied  that  it  would  be  dishonorable  to  the 


DRAGUT,   THE   CORSAIR.  187 

sultan's  arms,  and  disheartening  to  the  soldiers,  to  aban 
don  the  trenches  already  opened.  Throwing  himself 
with  his  usual  energy  into  the  work,  he  exerted  him 
self  day  and  night  to  encourage  the  soldiers  and  for 
ward  the  siege.  He  superintended  the  mounting  of 
the  batteries,  and  in  person  pointed  the  guns.  Wher 
ever  there  was  the  most  danger,  there  was  Dragut. 

The  fort  of  St.  Elmo  was  in  ruins,  and  it  was  re 
solved  to  hazard  a  general  assault.  Dragut,  reckless 
of  danger,  advanced  beyond  the  protection  of  the  epaul- 
ment,  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitering  the  ground, 
when  a  shot  from  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo  dashed  a 
stone  to  fragments,  one  of  which  struck  him  on  the 
side  of  the  head,  and  felled  him  senseless  to  the 
ground,  with  the  blood  streaming  from  his  mouth,  nose, 
and  ears.  Mustapha  Basha,  the  general-in-chief  of  the 
Turks,  rushed  out  of  the  trenches,  and  threw  a  carpet 
over  him,  in  order  to  conceal  the  disheartening  sight 
from  the  soldiers,  and  then  caused  him  to  be  taken  to 
his  tent,  when  he  was  found  still  living. 

A  vigorous  assault  the  next  day  was  successfully 
resisted.  It  was  renewed  again  two  days  after;  and 
nowhere  in  the  voluminous  annals  of  war  is  there  to 
be  found  a  record  of  more  desperate  and  unflinching  va 
lor.  The  Turks  persisted,  at  a  loss  of  eight  thousand 
men,  in  forcing  their  way  into  the  fort;  but  they  entered 
only  over  the  dead  bodies  of  its  brave  defenders.  Not  a 


188  ROMANCE      DUST. 

single  knight  was  left  alive  to  man  the  breach.  The  basha 
is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  with  reference  to  the  small- 
ness  of  the  work,  and  the  probable  difficulty  they  would 
have  with  the  town,  "  What  will  not  the  father  cost 
us,  when  the  son,  who  is  so  small,  has  cost  us  the 
bravest  of  our  soldiers  *?" 

The  news  of  the  reduction  of  the  fort  was  carried 
to  Dragut,  who  had  recovered  his  sense,  but  not  his 
speech.  He  received  it  with  evident  signs  of  satisfac 
tion  ;  when  lifting  his  eyes  towards  heaven,  as  if  in 
thanksgiving,  he  suddenly  expired. 

Thus  ended  the  career  of  one  of  the  most  extraor 
dinary  men  of  his  age.  A  man  whose  name,  now  for 
gotten,  was  once  one  to  conjure  with  in  every  town  on 
both  sides  of  the  Mediterranean.  Few  men  ever  equal 
led  him  in  all  the  qualities  of  a  great  commander;  no 
one  ever  surpassed  him  in  courage,  in  presence  of  mind, 
or  in  perseverance.  The  historians  praise  even  his  hu 
manity  ;  not  that  he  was  particularly  kind  in  his  treat 
ment  of  his  captives — the  customs  of  the  age,  as  well 
among  Christians  as  among  Turks  and  Moors,  would 
have  prevented  that — but  he  never  treated  them  with 
wanton  cruelty.  The  circumstances  of  his  birth,  his 
profession  and  his  creed,  were  all  against  him  ;  but  still 
he  managed  to  put  himself  clearly  and  decidedly  within 
the  category  of  great  men.  Had  he  been  born  to  a 
throne,  he  would  unquestionably  have  divided  the  page 


DRAGUT,  THE  CORSAIR.  189 

of  history    with  his  great  and  powerful  enemy,  Charles 
the  Fifth. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  sketch  to  give  the  de 
tails  of  the  famous  siege  in  which  Dragut  perished.  If 
the  reader  is  anxious  to  know  with  what  desperate 
energy  the  Turks  persisted  in  the  attack,  and  with  what 
indomitable  resolution  and  courage  the  knights  resisted, 
until,  after  immense  losses  on  both  sides,  the  besiegers 
were  compelled  to  embark  the  remnant  of  their  forces, 
leaving  the  defences  of  Malta  in  ruins,  but  its  gallant 
defenders  unsubdued,  he  has  only  to  refer  to  any  one 
of  the  thousand  histories  of  Charles  and  his  times. 


THE 


PIOUS    CONSTANCY 


OF 


IIEZ  DE  MENCIA  MONT-ROY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

IN  the  year  1536  the  town  of  Agadeer,  situated  in 
Soos,  the  most  southerly  province  of  the  kingdom  of 
Morocco,  on  the  coast  of  the  Atlantic,  was  in  possession 
of  the  Portuguese.  It  was  deemed  an  exceedingly 
strong  place,  having  good  defences — natural  and  artifi 
cial — a  numerous  garrison,  an  able  and  resolute  com 
mander,  and  having  frequently  withstood  the  assaults 
of  the  surrounding  Moors. 

It  was  one  bright,  balmy  morning  of  that  year,  that 
a  young  girl  of  singular  beauty  threw  open  the  door 
of  a  small  turret  leading  on  to  the  flat  roof  of  the  go 
vernor's  house.  She  was  habited  in  a  loose  gown  of 
white  linen,  girded  to  her  waist  by  a  silken  Moorish 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  191 

sash.  A  black  mantilla  was  thrown  carelessly,  with 
flowing  ends,  over  her  dark  hair,  which,  braided  in  ma 
ny  strands,  was  looped  up  in  long  pendant  folds,  and 
secured  by  ribbons  to  a  silver  comb.  Loose  slippers 
of  yellow  Morocco  partially  covered  her  small,  plump 
and  stockingless  feet.  Her  figure  was  slight,  but  round; 
her  face  of  a  perfect  oval ;  her  complexion  dark,  but 
of  wonderful  purity ;  and  her  eyes  so  large  and  black, 
with  so  mild  and  dreamy  an  expression,  and  yet  with 
so  many  indications  of  latent  passion  and  power,  that 
no  one  upon  whom  they  fell  could  resist  their  influ 
ence.  As  she  appeared  alone  on  the  terrace  for  her 
usual  morning  walk,  the  distant  sentinels  on  the  ram 
parts  commanding  a  view  over  the  battlements  of  the 
house  involuntarily  raised  their  hands  in  salute,  and 
drawing  themselves  up,  strutted  off  on  their  rounds 
with  a  more  stately  step,  as  if  immediately  under  the 
eye  of  the  fair  being  in  whom  they  recognised  the  only 
daughter  of  their  governor,  Donna  Inez  de  Mencia  Mont- 
Roy. 

Inez  had  just  risen  from  her  devotions;  and  the  ele 
vated  expression  of  pure  and  pious  feeling  yet  lingered 
on  her  countenance,  harmonizing  admirably  with  the 
scene  around  :  the  pure  sky  above,  tinged  with  the 
golden  light  of  early  morning;  the  magnificent  peaks 
of  the  Atlas  gleaming  in  the  level  sunbeams;  and  be 
low  her,  the  broad  deep  blue  expanse  of  the  quiet  ocean. 


192  ROMANCE     DUST. 

For   a   few   moments    she   seemed    to    surrender  herself 
to  the  general  influence  of  the  view ;  but  anon  her  eyes 
settled,  with   a   look  of  peculiar   interest,  upon  a  grove 
of  straggling    cork    trees  just  beyond   the   walls,  which 
had  been  suffered  to  trench  upon   the   slope  of  the  gla 
cis.     Nothing  appeared  to  repay  the  glances  of  the  fair 
Inez,  and  with  a  faint  half-breathed  sigh  she  turned,  and 
commenced    pacing     the    terrace  ;    gradually     extending 
her  walk,  until,  unconsciously,  she  entered  a  slender  gal 
lery    forming    a  communication   with   the   rampart  of  a 
bastion  which  projected  towards  the  grove.     There    was 
nothing    strange   in   this  ;    she   had   done   it   a   hundred 
times  before.     The  bastion  was   secluded,  only  a  single 
sentinel    appearing    within    sight,    and    the    gallery    had 
been    thrown    across   on   purpose    to    convert   it   into   a 
quiet  and  private   promenade.     But  somehow  this  time 
there  was  a  hesitation  in  her  step  that  she  herself  would 
have  been   puzzled   to    explain.     Onward,  however,    she 
went,    until    she    reached    the   parapet    of   the   bastion ; 
when  stepping  upon  the  banquette,  she  leaned  her  arms 
upon  the  wall,  and  looked  over  on  to  the  narrow  glacis. 
Again  her  keen  glance  penetrated  the  grove  of  cork 
trees — and   this  time  not   in  vain  ;    for   suddenly    there 
appeared  a  figure  habited  in  Moorish  garb,  and  mounted 
on  a  large  powerful   horse  of  superb  action.     The  ani 
mal   and    his    rider    seemed   to   Donna    Inez's    eyes   to 
spring    from    the   ground    with    two    or   three    vigorous 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA      MONT -ROY.  193 

bounds.  The  next  instant  the  action  of  the  animal  was 
arrested,  and  his  rider  sat  motionless  for  awhile  within 
the  shelter  of  the  wood.  Then  dismounting,  he  fastened 
his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  drawing  his  haick  over  his 
head,  sauntered  carelessly  out  on  the  open  glacis  to 
wards  the  foot  of  the  bastion. 

*  The  first  impulse  of  Inez  was  to  retreat  to  the  ter 
race  ;  but  she  would  not  admit  to  herself  that  there 
could  be  anything  in  the  appearance  of  a  wandering 
Moor  outside  of  the  walls  of  the  town  to  disturb  her, 
and  simply  drawing  the  folds  of  her  mantilla  around 
her  face,  she  awaited  with  a  beating  heart  his  gradual 
and  indirect  approach.  The  Moor  advanced  until  he 
reached  the  edge  of  the  ditch  at  the  foot  of  the  bastion, 
when,  throwing  back  his  haick,  he  exposed  a  youthful 
face  of  striking  beauty.  Fine  regular  features,  and  a 
clear  light  olive  complexion,  were  admirably  set  off  by 
a  white  turban  and  black  curling  moustach  and  beard. 
The  expression  of  his  face  was  also  very  fine,  with  the 
exception  of  an  occasional  fiery  gleam  of  the  eyes,  evi 
dently  indicating,  to  a  close  observer,  a  latent  element 
of  ferocity  in  the  composition  of  his  character. 

Inez  started,  but  not  with  surprise;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  she  was  not  wholly  unprepared  to  recognise  in 
the  young  man  before  her  the  person  of  the  shereef 
Mohammed,  the  master  of  Soos  and  the  whole  south 
ern  portion  of  the  kingdom  of  Morocco. 

9 


194  ROMANCE     DUST. 

But  a  week  had  elapsed  since  she  had  accompanied 
her  father  to  a  conference  with  the  young  shereef,  where 
the  terms  of  a  truce  had  been  arranged  between  the 
garrison  and  the  surrounding  Moors.  A  single  glance 
at  the  unveiled  face  of  Donna  Inez  had  fired  the  heart 
of  the  inflammable  Moor;  while  his  fine  face  and  figure, 
and  noble  air,  had  left  an  impression  upon  the  mind 
of  the  young  girl,  which  had  for  several  mornings  been 
recalled  by  the  appearance  of  a  mysterious  horseman 
in  the  distant  wood. 

Inez  felt  the  blood  mount  to  her  cheeks  and  brow, 
and  she  drew  her  mantilla  closer  around  her  face.  She 
felt  her  heart  beat  and  her  limbs  tremble,  and  she 
thought  how  wrong  it  would  be  to  hold  any  commu 
nication  with  her  father's  enemy,  and  the  enemy  of  her 
faith.  She  was  about  to  retreat  ;  but  maiden  pride 
withheld  her.  "  Why  should  she  ?  What  was  it  to 
her  that  a  Moor  showed  himself  outside  of  the  walls  of 
the  town1?  What  right  had  she  to  suppose  that  his 
movements  had  anything  to  do  with  her  ?  And  was 
there  not  a  truce  1  Had  not  her  father  and  the  she- 
reef  become  friends'?1' 

This  reasoning  was  perfectly  conclusive  ;  but  despite 
of  it  Inez  was  turning  to  withdraw,  when  her  move 
ments  were  arrested  by  the  voice  of  the  shereef. 

"  One  moment,  fair  lady,"  he  exclaimed  imploringly, 
"just  one  moment,  to  permit  me  to  say  that  upon  the 


INEZ      DE      MEN  CIA      MONT -ROY.  195 

slightest  sign  I  will  retire  instantly.  I  would  not  in 
terrupt  your  morning  musings.  You  need  not  fear  me 
— I  am  no  enemy;  and  if  I  were,  is  not  this  chasm 
between  us1?" 

"Nay,"  returned  Inez,  "I  have  no  fear;  but  it  is 
unseemly  for  me  to  parley  thus  with  my  father's  foe." 

"Do  not  call  me  a  foe,"  replied  Mohammed.  "Have 
we  not  agreed  to  a  truce,  as  preparatory  to  a  final 
treaty  of  peace  and  friendship1?  Ah,  if  you  knew  how 
much  you  had  to  do  with  that  truce,  you  would  not 
refuse  to  listen  to  me  for  a  moment." 

"  For  a  moment !  Well,  seiior,  for  a  moment  I 
will  listen.  Speak  quickly,  for  I  cannot  promise  to  re 
main  longer." 

"All  Soos,  fair  lady,  rings  with  the  fame  of  your 
beauty." 

"  And  is  it  for  such  an  idle  compliment  that  you 
detain  me?"  demanded  Inez. 

"Not  so,"  replied  the  shereef.  "I  was  going  on  to 
say  that  all  Soos  does  but  echo  the  sentiments  of  the 
lord  and  master  of  Soos." 

"  Worse  and  worse,  seiior,"  interrupted  Inez.  "  What 
are  the  sentiments  on  such  a  subject  of  the  lord  of  Soos 
to  me?" 

"Not  much,  perhaps,  to  you,  but  to  me  everything. 
Ah !  Inez,  the  first  flash  of  your  beauty  pierced  my 
breast,  as  with  a  dagger.  My  heart  shrank  and  shriv- 


196  ROMANCE     DUST. 

elled  in  your  careless  glance,  like  a  leaf  in  a  furnace. 
I  saw  you  but  to  love  you.  I  have  lived  since  but  in 
the  daily  sight  of  you  from  those  distant  woods." 

The  impassioned  look  and  tone  of  the  shereef  made 
the  heart  of  Inez  thrill  with  a  mixed  emotion  of  de 
light  and  fear.  One  moment  she  stood  leaning  over 
the  wall  to  catch  his  words — the  next,  she  started,  and 
drawing  back,  made  a  movement  of  retreat.  The  young 
man  raised  his  hands  imploringly. 

"  I  must  retire,  senor,"  exclaimed  Inez.  "  Your 
moment  is  up,  and  I  can  stay  here  listening  to  your 
idle  gallantries  no  longer." 

"  One  word  more,  fair  lady,"  returned  Mohammed, 
impetuously.  "  I  must  speak  now — I  may  not  have 
another  opportunity.  I  love  you ;  how  deeply,  words 
are  vain  to  tell.  For  your  sake  I  am  going  to  pro 
pose  a  treaty  of  perpetual  peace  with  your  country 
men;  and  your  hand  shall  be  the  only  condition  I  will 
exact.  You  will  give  your  consent,  lovely  Inez — will 
you  not.  'Tis  for  that  I  have  sought  to  speak  with 
you,  before  making  my  propositions  to  your  father." 

The  strongest  emotion  Inez  felt  was  astonishment 
at  the  apparent  disregard  of  the  wide  religious  differ 
ences  separating  them ;  but  before  she  could  find  words 
in  which  to  reply,  the  conviction  rushed  upon  her  that 
Mohammed's  intention  must  be  to  renounce  his  faith, 
and  embrace  the  religion  of  the  cross.  Instantly  her 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  197 

pale  cheek  glowed  with  the  flush  of  hope  and  pleasure. 
She  saw  in  imagination  the  picture  of  a  soul — his  soul 
— a  soul  animating  so  noble  a  form — saved  from  the 
doom  of  the  Infidel.  She  saw  a  vision  of  a  whole  na 
tion  of  Infidels  following  the  example  of  their  prince, 
and  yielding  to  the  influence  of  the  true  faith.  She 
eagerly  leaned  over  the  parapet. 

"You  are  startled,  most  lovely,  most  enchanting 
Christian,  by  my  proposal.  I  hope  it  does  not  dis 
please  you." 

"  Indeed,  serlor,"  replied  Inez,  "  your  words  sound 
strangely  from  one  of  your  faith.  You  forget  that  a 
Christian  maiden  may  not  listen  to  one  whose  custom 
it  is  to  scoff  at  and  revile  her  religion." 

"  But  why  need  there  be  any  religious  differences  be 
tween  us?"  demanded  Mohammed. 

"  You  a  Christian  ]"  replied  Inez,  impulsively  stretch 
ing  out  her  hand,  as  if  to  grasp  the  repentant  Infidel, 
and  pull  him  within  the  folds  of  the  Church.  "Thanks 
to  the  Blessed  Virgin!  she  has  heard  my  prayer." 

"  A  Christian !"  exclaimed  Mohammed,  drawing  him 
self  up  proudly,  while  an  emotion  of  astonishment  and 
disgust  passed  across  his  visage.  "  Lady,  I  am  a  shereef 
a  descendant  of  the  Prophet.  The  blood  of  Moham 
med  flows  in  these  veins.  Think  you  that  I  am  capa 
ble  not  only  of  changing  my  faith,  but  of  renouncing 
my  lineage1?  Would  you  have  me  leave  the  path  to 


198  ROMANCE     DUST. 

power,  and  give  up  the  grasp  which  I  have  upon  the 
sceptre  of  the  decaying  Oataze]  No,  fair  Inez.  I  would 
hold  to  all  I  have,  if  it  were  only  to  share  it  with  thee. 
You  can  easily  renounce  your  idolatrous  creed — You 
are  a  woman — what  matters  your  belief  to  you  ?  Give 
it  up,  and,  I  swear  to  you,  you  shall  be  queen  of 
Morocco." 

The  color  forsook  the  cheek  of  Inez,  the  smile  fled 
from  her  lips,  as  she  replied:  "Your  sneer,  senor,  at 
a  woman's  faith  is  a  fitting  punishment  for  staying  here 
to  listen  to  you.  I  blame  you  not — 'tis  part  of  your 
creed  ;  but  know,  senor.  that  to  a  Christian  maiden 
her  faith  is  everything  :  it  is  her  only  support  and  guide 
— without  it  she  is  a  frail  and  rudderless  vessel,  tossed 
wildly  upon  the  waves  of  feeling  and  passion,  with  not 
a  chance  to  escape  wrecking  her  best  hopes  here,  to  say 
nothing  of  her  hopes  for  the  next  world.  Senor,  the 
religion  of  the  blessed  Jesus  is  a  religion  for  woman ; 
man  may  renounce  it,  but  she  can never." 

"  Ah,  lovely  Christian !"  exclaimed  the  shereef,  "  you 
cannot  be  so  cruel.  I  will  make  your  father  intercede 
for  me — you  will  think  better  of  1t  in  time." 

"  Never !"  replied  Inez,  pulling  an  ivory  crucifix 
from  her  bosom,  and  raising  it  to  her  lips.  "  I  have 
been  weak  and  foolish  to  parley  with  you  so  long. 
Adieu!  And  yet  one  word,  senor:  spare  yourself  the 


INEZ     DE      ME  K  CIA     MO  NT- ROT.  199 

trouble  of  appealing  to  the  'Mont-Roy  on  such  a  sub 
ject.  Adieu  !" 

The  young  lady  drew  back  from  the  parapet,  ra 
pidly  crossed  the  bastion  and  gallery,  and  regaining  the 
terrace  of  the  house,  disappeared  through  the  door  of 
the  turret.  Upon  reaching  her  apartment  she  dropped 
upon  her  knees  before  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  and  af 
ter  acknowledging  her  weakness  in  suffering  the  young 
shereef  to  occupy  her  thoughts,  she  prayed  for  strength 
to  resist  all  the  temptations  of  passion  and  fancy.  The 
act  of  prayer  is  ever  its  own  reward ;  and  Inez  rose 
from  her  devotions  calm  and  assured. 

Not  so  Mohammed,  who,  as  Inez  withdrew  from  the 
parapet,  stood  for  a  while  gazing  at  the  blank  wall, 
while  a  whirl  of  tumultuous  feeling  swept  through 
his  breast.  His  was  a  fiery,  passionate  temperament — 
the  true  temperament  for  a  leader  of  fierce  fanatics, 
the  subverter  of  an  old  dynasty,  and  the  founder  of  a 
new.  He  could  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  his 
suit  being  denied,  or  that  Mont-Roy  would  let  so  small 
a  matter  as  his  daughter's  religious  belief  interfere  with 
the  favorable  reception  of  his  propositions.  "  But  if 
he  should  do  so,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  may  find  a  way 
to  compel  his  consent.  These  walls  are  not  so  lofty 
or  so  strong  that  they  can  long  shut  out  the  eagle  of 
the  desert." 


200 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


Turning  away,  he  regained  his  horse,  and  sprang 
upon  his  back.  He  threw  a  glance  at  the  vacant  ter 
race,  and  finding  that  Inez  did  not  favor  him  with  a 
parting  look,  passionately  struck  the  sharp  corners  of 
his  stirrup-irons  into  his  steed,  and  disappeared  among 
the  trees  at  full  gallop. 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  201 


CHAPTEK  II. 


THE  revolutions  of  Morocco  had  been  numerous  and 
bloody.  To  say  nothing  of  the  earlier  ages,  when  Goths 
succeeded  to  Romans,  and  Saracens  to  Goths,  in  latter 
days  the  Almoravid  dynasty,  upon  the  defeat  in  Spain 
of  Abu  Hali,  the  grandson  of  the  famous  Yusef,  who 
built  the  city  of  Morocco,  had  given  way  to  the  Al- 
mohedes.  A  king  of  this  family,  emulating  the  deeds 
of  his  great  ancestor,  Almansur,  who  defeated  the 
Spaniards  at  the  battle  of  Alarcos,  had  led  his  army 
across  the  Straits  of  Hercules,  and  on  the  fields  of 
the  Sierra  Morena  had  lost  two  hundred  thousand 
Moors.  The  political  troubles  consequent  upon  this 
defeat  ended  only  with  the  displacement  of  the  Almo- 
hedes,  and  the  substitution  of  the  Benimerini ;  these, 
in  their  turn,  had  been  succeeded  by  the  Oatazes — and 
it  was  a  prince  of  this  dynasty  who  was,  at  the  period 
of  which  we  write,  nominally  the  sovereign  of  Morocco. 

A  revolution,  however,  had   been   for   several   years 


202  ROMANCE      DUST. 

in  progress,  and  was  at  the  time  going  on,  which  was 
destined  to  end  in  the  destruction  of  the  feeble  Oataze, 
and  the  elevation  to  the  throne  of  the  shereefs,  whose 
descendants  have  remained  in  power  to  the  present  day. 
This  revolution  had  been  commenced  by  Hassan,  a  na 
tive  of  Tegumedet,  who  pretended  to  be  a  descendant 

of  the   Prophet,  and,  by   affecting  a  life  of  uncommon 

ft 
holiness  and   purity,  had   acquired   great   influence   with 

the  people  of  his  province.  His  two  sons — Hammed 
and  Mohammed — had  eagerly  adopted  his  ambitious 
views,  and  by  their  energy,  courage,  fanaticism,  and  hy 
pocrisy,  had  gradually  wrorked  their  way  to  the  posses 
sion  of  unlimited  power  over  the  provinces  they  had 
compelled  the  feeble  king  to  grant  them.  Already  the 
sceptre  appeared  within  their  grasp  ;  but  mutual  jea 
lousy  had  prevented  them  for  some  time  from  extend 
ing  their  hands  to  seize  it. 

It  was  the  youngest  of  these  brothers,  and  the  one 
who  afterwards  succeeded  in  deposing  his  sovereign,  and 
in  compelling  Hammed  to  give  up  all  claims  to  an 
equality  of  power,  to  whom  the  reader  has  been  intro 
duced.  As  he  rode  off,  after  his  interview  with  Inez, 
an  observer  might  have  noticed  an  expression  of  vex 
ation  and  chagrin,  which  sat  but  ill  upon  his  handsome 
features.  To  this  succeeded  a  look  of  determination. 
His  brows  were  knit,  his  lips  compressed,  and  his  hand 
clenched;  and  then  again,  as  he  gained  the  open  coun- 


INEZ      DE      MEN  CIA      MONT-ROY.  203 

try  beyond  the  cork  trees,  and  spurred  his  horse  to 
the  top  of  his  speed,  his  features  relaxed  into  a  smile  of 
sati sfaction,  and  an  expression  of  confidence  and  hope. 
The  situation  of  the  Portuguese  in  Africa  was  at 
this  time  surrounded  with  difficulties,  arising  no  less  from 
their  own  weakness  than  from  the  energy  of  their  ene 
mies.  The  expense  of  keeping  up  numerous  garrisons 
upon  the  coast  of  Morocco  had  begun  to  press  heavily 
upon  the  court  of  Lisbon ;  and,  besides  that,  the  attention  of 
the  whole  nation  had  been  drawn  to  their  more  important 
possessions  in  the  East.  It  was  as  much,  therefore,  as 
the  governor  of  Agadeer  could  do  with  the  limited 
means  allowed  him  to  defend  the  town  against  the  as 
saults  of  the  Moors,  to  say  nothing  of  protecting  the 
people  of  the  surrounding  Berber  districts,  with  whom  his 
predecessors  had  established  relations  of  friendship.  The 
young  shereef  would  not  permit  himself  to  doubt  that 
in  this  condition  of  affairs  Mont-Roy  would  be  willing 
to  purchase  a  permanent  peace  at  the  price  he  proposed. 
In  truth,  his  idea  was,  that  the  Christian  would  feel 
himself  but  too  highly  honored  by  the  offer.  As  to 
there  being  any  religious  scruples,  he  could  not  believe 
that  any  such  would  be  interposed.  Between  men  a 
difference  of  faith  might  be  an  insuperable  obstacle  ; 
but  in  the  case  of  a  woman,  it  was  nothing.  Despite 
the  assurances  he  had  just  received  from  Inez,  which 
had  astonished  him  for  a  moment,  but  which  had  failed 


204 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


to  convince  him,  he  felt  sure  that  Mont-Roy  would 
compel  her  at  once  to  repeat  the  short  formula  of  Mo 
hammedan  faith.  As  to  any  objections  to  himself  per 
sonally,  on  the  part  of  the  maiden,  Mohammed  had  too 
much  confidence  in  his  own  good  looks  to  permit  him 
to  doubt  of  success,  even  had  not  the  instinct  of  pas 
sion  revealed  to  him  at  a  glance  the  admiraton  he  had 
inspired. 

For  an  hour  Mohammed  pursued  his  way  at  full 
speed  over  the  rough  rocky  ground,  covered  here  and 
there  with  patches  of  cactus  and  palmetto,  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  white  dome  of  one  of  the  numerous  sanc- 
torea  in  sight.  Upon  turning  an  angle  of  the  saint's 
house,  he  drew  rein  suddenly  in  front  of  a  large  tent, 
distinguished  from  several  smaller  ones  by  a  banner  of 
green  silk  streaming  from  a  flag-staff  planted  before 
the  entrance.  Groups  of  men — Moors,  Berbers,  and 
negroes,  were  lying  before  the  tents,  or  squatted  within 
the  porch  of  the  sanctorium.  A  number  of  fine  horses 
stood  picketted  in  a  long  line  in  rear  of  the  principal 
tent,  and  in  front  of  it  were  several  hunting  dogs,  fas 
tened  by  ropes  of  palmetto  fibre  to  a  large  stake,  around 
the  top  of  which  hung  several  wicker  cages  containing 
hawks. 

Mohammed  threw  himself  from  his  saddle,  and  en 
tered  the  tent.  At  his  order  a  slave  brought  him  his 


INEZ     DE     MEN  CIA     MONT -ROY.  205 

writing  materials ;  consisting  of  narrow  slips  of  coarse 
paper,  a  large  inkstand  of  earthen  ware,  and  a  pen  made 
of  a  piece  of  pointed  reed.  The  young  shereef  was  an 
expert  talb,  or  writer.  With  nothing  to  support  the 
paper  but  his  knee  and  left  hand,  he  was  not  long  in 
inditing  an  epistle  which,  for  uniformity  and  regularity 
of  line  and  letter,  might  well  compare  with  the  best 
specimens  of  typography. 

The  slave  presented  his  seal,  with  wax,  and  a  thread 
of  green  silk.  Mohammed  carefully  folded  the  letter, 
and  proceeded  to  seal  it  and  tie  it  with  the  silk,  in  all 
the  twists  and  turns  demanded  by  Moorish  etiquette. 

"  And  now  a  handkerchief,"  demanded  the  shereef; 
"  and  let  it  be  of  the  costliest." 

The  slave  pulled  out  from  a  large  leather  sack  a 
variety  of  silken  fabrics,  the  products  of  the  looms  of 
Genoa  and  Florence ;  and  selecting  a  handkerchief  of 
a  bright  scarlet  color,  presented  it  to  his  master,  who 
proceeded  with  due  deliberation  to  wrap  the  letter  in 
its  folds. 

In  obedience  to  his  master's  commands,  the  slave 
now  emptied  the  contents  of  several  other  sacks  upon 
the  carpet  on  which  Mohammed  was  seated.  The  young 
man,  with  his  own  hand,  proceeded  to  select  a  number  of 
articles  from  the  piles.  He  chose  two  or  three  Turk 
ish  shawls,  a  piece  of  cloth,  richly  worked  by  the  Jews 


206  ROMANCE      DUST. 

of  Tarudant  with  gold  thread,  colored  cottons  from  Tim- 
bucto,  several  "boxes  of  spices  and  gums,  daggers  and 
swords  of  Fez  workmanship,  and  an  immense  bracelet 
of  emeralds  and  pearls.  When  these  were  made  up 
into  four  separate  parcels,  he  stepped  outside  the  cur 
tain  of  the  tent,  and  called  for  the  kaid  of  the  stud. 

"  Bring  up  the  four  blacks  of  Draha,"  said  Moham 
med  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  four  jet  black  steeds,  of 
matchless  form  and  action,  from  the  province  of  Mo 
rocco  most  famous  for  its  horses,  stood  before  the  prince. 
In  obedience  to  his  command  they  were  saddled  and 
bridled  ;  the  packages  were  brought  forth  and  bound 
upon  their  backs,  and,  led  each  by  a  slave  at  the 
head-stalls,  they  were  paraded  up  and  down  in  front 
of  the  tent,  while  the  shereef  withdrew  for  a  few  mo 
ments  in  conversation  with  the  kaid. 

"  You  will  take  this  letter,  Kaid  Nacer,"  said  the 
prince,  "  and  bear  Jt  to  the  governor  of  yonder  town. 
It  contains  the  proposal  that  I  told  you  I  intended 
to  make.  Tell  the  Christian  that  I  await  his  answer 
with  all  the  impatience  of  the  most  burning  desire. 
Swear  to  him,  by  the  bones  of  Mohammed,  that  I  will 
for  ever  keep  the  peace  with  his  countrymen." 

"You  may  trust  your  servant,"  replied  the  kaid; 
"he  will  swear  to  whatever  his  lord  desires." 

"  And  without   straining   your   conscience,"   returned 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT -ROY.  207 

the  shereef,  observing  a  slight  smile  of  incredulity  on 
the  kaid's  face,  at  the  mention  of  a  perpetual  peace 
with  the  Christian.  "Hark  you,  Ben  Nacer,"  he  con 
tinued,  seizing  the  kaid's  arm  and  speaking  in  a  low 
tone,  "  we  shall  have  war  enough  without  troubling 
ourselves  with  the  Christians." 

"  The    Oataze  V    demanded    the   kaid  ;     "  surely    his 

arms  can  never  reach  to  this  side  of  the  Atlas." 

"  No,"  replied  Mohammed  ;  "  the  Oataze  grows  weak 
er  and  weaker  every  dciy.  Soon  he  will  drop  like  a 
rotten  pomegranite  to  the  ground ;  and  none  of  his  seed 
will  be  strong  enough  to  take  root.  Whose  head  will 
be  then  tall  enough  to  cast  its  shadow  over  the  whole 
kingdom  of  Morocco.  The  blood  of  the  Prophet  flows 
in  Hammed's  veins  as  well  as  in  mine ;  but,  brothers 
as  we  are,  we  cannot  both  sit  on  the  same  throne. 
Go,"  continued  the  prince,  "  deliver  my  message ;  and 
that  you  may  not  present  yourself  before  the  Chris 
tian  empty-handed,  take  these  horses,  with  their  bur 
dens,  and  say  that  if  he  consents  to  my  terms,  a 
hundred  horses,  still  more  heavily  laden,  shall  wait  at 
the  gates  of  his  castle." 

The  kaid  knew  the  impatient  and  fiery  temper  of 
his  master  too  well  to  interpose  any  further  remark. 
Bowing  in  respectful  silence,  he  backed  out  of  the  tent, 
and  giving  the  word  to  his  men,  sprang  into  the  sad 
dle.  The  four  horses,  led  by  mounted  men,  were 


208  ROMANCE     DUST. 

placed  in  the  centre  of  the  small  troop ;  where  also 
rode  a  standard  bearer,  carrying  the  usual  emblem  of 
shereefian  authority — a  green  banner.  The  kaid  him 
self,  bearing  a  small  flag  of  white,  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  men,  and  with  a  devout  "  manshallah  /" 
gave  the  order  to  march. 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT -ROY.  209 


CHAPTER   III. 


FAIR  Inez  was  seated  on  a  pile  of  cushions  in  a  lat 
ticed  gallery  surrounding  a  small  open  court.  A  tink 
ling  fountain  sent  up  its  slender  columns  of  cool  water, 
which,  in  falling  back  into  the  marble  basin,  scattered 
its  drops  upon  a  border  of  flowers.  On  one  side  01 
the  young  girl  lay  her  embroidery,  on  the  other  her 
guitar.  She  heeded  not  the  instrument  or  her  work — 
the  sound  of  the  fountain,  or  the  odor  of  the  flowers. 

What  was  the  subject  of  her  thoughts  ?  Was  she 
thinking  of  the  young  shereef  1  of  his  noble  form  and  face 
— his  distinguished  air — his  persuasive  tones  ?  No  ;  she 
had  banished  him  completely  from  her  mind.  She  was 
resolutely  thinking  of  the  vanity  of  human  affairs — of 
the  folly  of  all  worldly  hopes  and  aspirations — of  the  no 
thingness  of  life.  She  was  thinking  of  the  air  of  coarse 
ness  and  meanness  common  to  all  the  officers  of  her 
father's  garrison,  and  her  thoughts  wandered,  with  not 
more  satisfaction,  to  the  awkward,  ill-favored  gallants  of 


210 


ROMANCE      DUST. 


the  court  of  Lisbon.  She  was  thinking  that  the  services 
and  ceremonies  of  religion  afforded  the  only  subjects 
of  interest  for  maidens  in  this  life,  and  that  she  would 
speak  to  her  father  in  relation  to  entering  a  convent 
the  next  time  she  should  be  with  him  alone. 

Her  revery  was  interrupted  by  a  heavy  step  in 
the  gallery.  A  tall,  ghaunt  figure,  habited  in  the  mi 
litary  garb  of  the  day,  except  that  his  head  was  unco 
vered,  advanced  towards  her.  His  face,  wrinkled  and 
care-worn,  was  still  handsome ;  his  form  erect,  and  his 
gait  firm;  although  for  more  than  thirty  years  had  he 
borne  through  many  well  fought  fields  the  weight  of 
knightly  arms.  He  held  a  letter  in  his  hand,  which 
he  presented  to  Inez. 

"  Read  this,  my  daughter,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  you 
are  skilled  in  the  language  in  which  it  is  written,  and 
it  is  of  matters  concerning  you." 

Inez  took  the  letter,  and  rapidly  ran  her  eye  over 
the  fair  Arabic  characters.  The  shereef  had  wasted  no 
words,  and  his  meaning  was  clear.  She  looked  up  at 
her  father,  and  her  face  became  crimson  as  she  caught 
his  inquiring  glance. 

"  Well,  Inez,  what  say  you  ?"  he  demanded.  "  Tis 
a  well  stated  proposal,  and  the  young  man  seems  to 
speak  with  confidence." 

"  Dearest  father,  how  can  you  ask  me  ?  It  would 
be  impossible  to  wed  an  Infidel,  even  if  the  exercise  of 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  211 

my  faith  were  guaranteed  to  me  ;  but  to  renounce  my 
religion  —  to  give  up  Christ  for  Mohammed  —  "  Inez 
paused,  and  a  shudder  shook  her  slight  form. 

"  Methinks,  Inez,  you  take  it  calmly,"  exclaimed 
Mont-Roy,  striking  the  paper  violently  with  his  hand. 
"You  look  and  speak  as  if  you  regretted  having  to 
reject  this  offer.  By  heavens  !  my  blood  has  not  been 
stirred  up  for  years  to  such  a  tumult,  as  by  this  insult. 
But  I  will  send  a  fitting  answer.  I  will  scourge  the 
bearer  of  this  letter  from  the  gates  of  the  town.  I 


"  Not  so,  father,"  exclaimed  Inez,  rising  and  seiz 
ing  his  hand.  "  You  will  do  nothing  unfitting  the  cha 
racter  of  a  Mont-Roy.  Recollect  that  the  shereef  is 
a  Moor,  and  that  the  notions  and  opinions  of  his  coun 
trymen  in  relation  to  my  sex  are  very  different  from 
ours.  He  means  you  all  respect  —  doubtless,  he  thinks 
that  he  flatters  me  ;  besides,  were  his  message  an  in 
tended  insult,  the  sanctity  of  a  flag  must  remain  in 
violate.  Reject  his  proposal,  but  do  it  kindly.  Tell 
him  that  I  am  to  be  the  bride  of  Christ  —  that  I  am 
going  to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  a  convent." 

"  What  freak  is  this  1"  demanded  the  old  man,  com 
pletely  subdued  by  the  tones  of  his  daughter's  voice, 
rather  than  by  her  words.  "  What  has  put  such  thoughts 
into  your  head  1  Tell  him  that  you  are  going  to  en 
ter  a  convent  !  Never  !" 


212  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"  You  will — you  must,  dearest  father — send  a  de 
nial  in  as  gentle  words  as  possible." 

"  If  you  wish  it,  Inez.  And,  by  all  the  saints,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  if  he  loves  you  as  he  says  he  does, 
the  refusal  of  his  offer  will  be  punishment  enough.  I 
will  to  the  audience  hall,  and  give  his  ambassador  our 
answer.  Nay,  do  not  fear  that  I  will  be  over  harsh." 

As  the  old  knight  turned  away  and  threaded  the 
courts  and  corridors  leading  to  the  hall  where  the  kaid 
was  waiting,  the  suggestions  of  policy  came  in  aid  of 
Inez's  entreaties.  He  thought  how  ill-judged  it  would 
be  to  offend  the  young  prince  unnecessarily,  and  per 
haps  provoke  a  renewal  of  a  troublesome  and  expen 
sive  war. 

Accordingly,  his  secretary  was  directed  to  prepare, 
with  the  assistance  of  a  Moorish  talb,  a  reply  to  the 
letter  of  the  shereef;  in  which  the  unpalatable  sub 
stance  should  be  sugared  over  with  as  liberal  an  al 
lowance  of  Arabic  compliment  as  possible.  When  it 
was  finished,  the  governor  presented  it  with  his  own. 
hand  to  the  kaid. 

"  Take  this  to  your  master,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  him 
from  me  that  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  send  him  the 
answer  he  desires.  Tell  him  that  I  will,  notwithstand 
ing,  hold  myself  ever  ready  to  sign  an  agreement  of 
peace  and  friendship.  Let  me  hope  for  your  good  offices 
in  this  matter,  Kaid  Nacer.  Your  influence  with  the 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT- ROY.  213 

shereef  is  known ;  you  can  do  much  to  calm  any  ir 
ritation  he  may  at  first  feel.  As  to  this  present  that 
you  have  brought,  it  would  be  insulting  to  the  shereef 
to  return  it ;  and  yet,  considering  the  reply  I  am  com 
pelled  to  make  to  his  message,  it  is  not  fitting  for  me 
to  receive  it.  Keep  it,  then,  yourself — it  could  not  fall 
into  more  worthy  hands." 

Kaid  Nacer  eyed  the  packages,  which  had  been  par 
tially  opened,  for  a  moment,  with  an  air  of  hesitation. 
The  natural  cupidity  of  a  Barbary  Moor  struggled  with 
a  sense  of  self-respect  and  the  dignity  of  office.  The 
latter,  however,  finally  prevailed,  aided  as  it  was  by  a 
wholesome  apprehension  of  his  master's  anger. 

With  a  courtly  wave  of  his  hand,  he  declined  the 
proffered  present.  "  The  bounty  of  the  shereef,"  he 
said,-  "  is  enough  to  satisfy  his  servants.  I  may  not 
receive  what  the  Christian  disdains  to  retain." 

Rejoining  his  men,  who  were  drawn  up  in  front  of 
the  castle,  Kaid  Nacer  mounted  his  horse,  and  escorted 
to  the  gate  of  the  town  by  the  principal  officers  of 
the  garrison,  set  out  on  his  return. 

The  temporary  encampment  of  the  shereef  was  not 
many  miles  distant,  and  by  the  aid  of  sharp  spurring 
it  was  reached  just  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  were 
fitting  with  golden  caps  the  loftier  heads  of  the  Atlas. 
The  impatient  prince  was  at  the  door  of  his  tent  as 
the  kaid  rode  up,  and,  dismounting,  presented  him  the 


214  ROMANCE      DUST. 

letter.  With  forced  calmness  he  suffered  the  usual 
Moorish  compliments  and  good  wishes  for  his  health 
and  happiness,  and  then  deliberately  taking  the  letter, 
slowly  retired  within  his  tent.  Once  within,  and  con 
cealed  from  observation,  his  motions  were  hasty  enough. 
He  quickly  tore  open  the  letter,  and  with  a  flashing 
eye  and  a  flushed  brow  read  it  three  or  four  times. 

For  a  while  he  seemed  unable  to  comprehend  its 
import.  Suddenly  starting,  he  dashed  it  upon  the  ground, 
stamped  upon  it  with  his  foot,  and  then  paced  with  a 
hurried  gait  up  and  down  the  narrow  area  of  the  tent. 
The  black  slave  raised  for  a  moment  the  curtained  door, 
and  peered  into  the  inner  apartment,  unperceived  by 
his  master;  but  he  ventured  no  farther.  Hastily  draw 
ing  back,  he  retreated  to  the  outside  of  the  tent — his 
face  the  picture  of  astonishment  and  fear. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Kaid  Nacer  was  sum 
moned  before  the  young  prince,  and  closely  questioned 
as  to  the  circumstances  of  his  mission.  The  manner 
of  the  shereef  was  quiet  and  composed ;  but  there  were 
indications  in  his  flushed  face  and  fiery  eye,  as  seen  by 
the  light  of  four  or  five  large  wax  candles,  of  the  work 
ings  of  the  fiercest  passions.  He  listened  calmly  until 
the  kaid  came  to  the  assurances  of  Mont-Roy  of  his 
wish  to  continue  on  friendly  terms,  when  suddenly  he 
sprung  to  his  feet,  his  whole  form  quivering  with  rage. 

"The  dotard!  the  gray-headed  fool!  the  stupid  Chris- 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  215 

tian  hound  !"  exclaimed  Mohammed ;  "  does  he  think 
1  am  to  be  wheedled  out  of  my  senses  by  soft  words. 
Peace  !  Aye,  he  shall  have  peace  when  that  dog's 
kennel  yonder  is  leveled  with  the  ground.  And  as  to 
his  daughter,  I  shall  not  again  ask  his  or  her  consent — 
I  will  take  her  by  force ;  she  shall  be  the  captive  of 
my  sword  and  my  bow.  I  will  have  her — I  cannot  live 
without  her.  You  wonder  at  this,  Kaid  Nacerf 

"  She  is  a  Christian,"    timidly  replied  the  kaid. 

"True  ;  and  you  think  it  impossible  that  a  she- 
reef — a  descendant  of  our  most  holy  Prophet — should 
hold  the  commerce  of  love  with  an  Infidel.  You  are 
right ;  but,  once  in  my  power,  that  obstacle  shall  be 
removed.  She  shall  renounce  her  religion;  and,  kaid, 
let  her  become  a  convert  to  the  true  faith,  and  she  is 
as  much  beyond  the  moon-faced  beauties  of  our  coun 
try,  as  the  valleys  of  Atlas  are  beyond  the  wastes  of 
Sahara.  But  come,  my  mind  is  made  up — have  her  I 
will ;  and  to  get  her,  we  must  tear  down  yonder  bat 
tlements  of  the  Christian.  Let  us  lose  no  time ;  send 
in  the  kaids,  and  I  will  give  them  their  orders." 

The  rest  of  the  night  was  spent  in  writing  letters 
to  the  different  shieks  of  the  province,  apprising  them 
of  the  shereef 's  design  of  assembling  a  large  army ;  and 
in  making  out  requisitions  for  men,  money,  and  pro 
visions.  At  early  dawn  a  dozen  messengers  were  ready 
to  ride  in  as  many  different  directions  with  the  coinmu- 


216 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


nications  of  the  energetic  Mohammed.  He  himself  was 
early  in  the  saddle;  his  route  lying  towards  Tarudant, 
the  capital  of  Soos,  where  he  had  appointed  the  ren 
dezvous  of  the  numerous  forces  which  he  had  resolved 
to  assemble. 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  217 


CHAPTEK   IY. 


IT  was  some  two  months  after  the  events  we  have 
described,  that  one  bright  morning  Inez  again  opened 
the  door  of  the  turret,  and  stepped  out  upon  the  ter 
race.  But  this  time  a  very  different  scene  greeted  her 
eyes.  Instead  of  a  few  lazy  sentinels,  the  walls  were 
lined  with  men  in  arms.  Instead  of  a  solitary  horse 
man  outside  the  town,  the  whole  face  of  the  country 
was  dotted  with  tents.  Long  lines  of  horses  were  pick- 
etted  in  the  distance.  Bodies  of  troops — some  mounted 
and  some  on  foot — were  marching  and  wheeling  along 
the  slopes  of  the  surrounding  hills. 

A  puff  of  smoke  and  a  loud  report  from  a  heavy 
culverine  on  the  ramparts,  gave  the  signal  for  a  con 
tinuous  fire  at  the  works  which  the  Moors,  during  the 
night,  had  thrown  up.  No  answer  was  returned,  the 
enemy  not  having  yet  planted  their  batteries ;  but,  un 
der  cover  of  the  protecting  gabions,  it  was  evident  that 
they  were  pushing  forward  their  trenches  with  vigor. 


218  ROMANCE     DUST. 

Soon  the  cannonade  would  commence.  Soon  a  breach 
would  be  made ;  and  soon  the  Infidel  would  rush  to  the 
assault,  again  and  again,  perhaps,  to  fail ;  but  still  blood 
would  flow  like  water,  and  many  a  stout-hearted  Chris 
tian  and  Moor  go  down  to  death  in  the  desperate 
melee. 

Fair  Inez  was  too  familiar  with  the  details  of  bat 
tles  and  sieges  to  feel  fear  at  the  sights  and  sounds 
around  her;  but  she  could  hardly  repress  an  emotion 
of  terror  as  she  thought  of  the  possible  meeting  in 
the  fierce  sally,  or  the  deadly  breach,  of  her  father  and 
the  leader  of  yon  host  of  Infidels.  And  mingled  with 
this  feeling  was  a  sentiment  of  self-reproach  for  the 
part  she  bore  in  the  affair.  She  felt  strongly  the 
conviction  that  she  was  to  blame  for  accompanying  her 
father  to  a  conference  with  the  shereef,  and  when  there 
permitting  him  to  address  her  face  to  face,  and  still 
more  for  listening  to  him  from  the  parapet  of  the  bas 
tion.  True,  she  had  done  nothing  that  was  decidedly 
wrong  in  itself,  but  she  felt  that  her  weakness  and  va 
nity  had  brought  the  Infidels  again  upon  the  town. 

But  what  could  she  do  to  atone  for  her  errors'? 
Nothing  but  pray  for  the  destruction  of  the  enemy 
and  the  salvation  of  her  friends.  Somehow,  this  duty 
she  could  not  perform  satisfactorily  to  herself.  She 
prayed,  it  is  true,  fervently  enough  for  the  preservation  of 
her  friends,  and  even  for  the  discomfiture  of  her  enemies; 


INEZ     DE      MEN  CIA     MONT-ROY.  219 

but  she  felt  that  her  prayers  were  not  animated  by  a 
holy  hate  of  the  Infidel.  She  took  blame  to  herself  that 
she  could  not  wish  them  to  be  wholly  exterminated, 
but  rather  that  the  Virgin  would  incline  their  hearts  to 
peace,  and  induce  them  to  strike  their  tents  and  make 
a  quiet  retreat. 

Inez  was  startled  by  the  voice  of  her  father,  who 
had  come  to  the  terrace  for  a  more  commanding  view 
of  the  open  country  beyond  the  walls. 

"  Your  lover  comes  to  woo  you  in  gallant  array," 
he  exclaimed.  "  What  think  you,  Inez,  will  he  win 
his  bride1?" 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  that,  father,  as  long  as  you  com 
mand  within  these  walls.  Methinks  the  Moor  has  tried 
it  too  often,  and  failed,  to  have  much  hopes  now." 

"  I  know  not  that,"  replied  Mont-Roy,  gravely. 
"You  have  heard  the  proverb,  '  "Pis  the  thirteenth  fire 
that  cracks  the  furnace.'  The  Infidel  never  came  upon 
us  in  such  force  before.  Why,  how  many  men,  think 
you,  our  leaguer  numbers?  Fifty  thousand  at  least; 
and  what  is  still  more  formidable  than  his  numbers,  is 
that  he  seems  to  be  well  supplied  with  heavy  artillery." 

"But  are  not  our  walls  strong?"  demanded  Inezr 
"and  our  men  in  good  heart?" 

Mont-Roy  looked  with  an  air  of  hesitation  in  his 
daughter's  face,  and  then  taking  her  hand,  drew  her 
towards  him.  "  You  are  a  brave  heart,  Inez,  and  I  may 


220  ROMANCE     DUST. 

tell  you  what  I  dare  not  whisper  to  man.  Never  be 
fore  have  I  felt  such  sad  forebodings — never  before  has 
this  town  been  attacked  in  such  force — never  before 
has  it  been  so  ill  supplied  for  a  siege.  Had  our  friends 
at  Lisbon  hearkened  to  my  requisitions  for  men  and 
munitions,  we  could  snap  our  fingers  at  yonder  Infidel ; 
and,  by  God's  help,  we  may  perhaps  do  so  yet.  I  do 
not  despair  ;  although  I  fear  the  shereef  has  an  ob 
ject  this  time  that  will  arouse  all  his  perseverance." 

Inez  had  never  before  seen  her  father  in  such  a  de 
sponding  mood. 

"  Are  there  no  means,"  she  demanded,  "  of  inducing 
the  shereef  to  withdraw  his  troops  1  Methinks,  if  I 
could  see  him,  I  could  convince  him  of  the  wrong  he 
does  us  by  renewing  a  useless  war." 

"  Ah !  Inez,"  replied  Mont-Roy,  "  I  am  afraid  if  you 
should  see  him,  you  would  but  confirm  him  in  his  pur 
pose.  His  terms  would  be  such  as  we  could  never  ac 
cept.  'Tis  but  this  morning  that  he  again  sent  to  make 
a  demand  for  your  hand.  I  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  consult  you  again.  We  have  lived  so  long  in  this 
out  of  the  way  part  of  the  world,  and  have  had  so 
much  communication  with  the  Infidel,  that  our  feelings 
are  very  different  from  those  of  our  prejudiced  and  bi 
goted  friends  at  Lisbon.  Still,  I  would  not  see  you 
marry  him,  noble  and  generous  as  believe  his  nature 
to  be,  even  if  he  demanded  not  that  you  should  em- 


INEZ      DE      MENCIA      MONT -ROY.  221 

brace  his  faith.  No,  Inez,  fear  not  that  I  shall  ever 
propose  to  buy  him  off  at  that  price.  But  come,  I 
must  to  the  ramparts ;  and  you  had  better  retire.  The 
Moors  will  soon  open  their  batteries,  and  a  chance  shot 
may  visit  the  terrace." 

Despite,  however,  her  father's  caution,  Inez  continued 
to  visit  the  terrace  day  after  day.  From  this  point 
she  had  a  complete  view  of  the  operations  of  the  siege. 
A  spectacle  of  fearful  interest  it  was  to  the  maiden,  and 
she  watched  it  with  feelings  that  elevated  her  above 
all  personal  fear. 

The  Moorish  batteries  were  plied  with  vigor  :  se 
veral  breaches  began  to  appear  in  the  walls.  The  gar 
rison,  too  weak  for  a  sally  against  so  numerous  an  ene 
my,  had  only  to  wait  the  assault.  The  impatient  she- 
reef  did  not  defer  it  unnecessarily.  Morning  was  dawning 
upon  the  high  peaks  of  the  Atlas,  leaving  all  below  in 
still  deeper  darkness,  when  the  Moorish  columns  were 
pushed  forward  to  the  attack.  The  Christians  were 
ready  to  receive  them.  The  noisy  musket  and  the  si 
lent  cross-bow  vied  with  each  other  in  their  deadly 
work.  "  Allah  Akbah !  Allah  Akbah !  down  with  the 
Christian  dogs  !"  was  the  cry  of  the  advancing  enemy, 
as  they  rushed  up  the  slope  of  the  ruined  masonry,  un 
til,  foot  to  foot,  sword  to  sword,  and  spear  to  spear, 
the  combatants  struggled  and  toiled  in  the  desperate 
fight.  The  morning  sun  rose  in  all  the  calmness  of  his 


222  ROMANCE      DUST. 

glory :  still  the  contest  continued.  The  rough  stones 
were  slippery  with  blood;  the  crown  of  the  breach  was 
piled  with  dead.  New  combatants  poured  in  despite 
the  flanking  fire  from  salient  and  tower;  still,  not  a 
foot  could  they  gain  upon  the  band  of  Christians  who, 
with  Mont-Roy  at  their  head,  confronted  them. 

Till  late  in  the  forenoon  the  combat  raged ;  when 
the  Moors,  finding  all  their  efforts  vain,  desisted  from 
the  attack,  leaving  two  or  three  thousand  dead  to  at 
test  the  vigor  and  perseverance  with  which  it  had  been 
made,  and  the  firmness  and  resolution  with  which  it 
had  been  repelled.  The  Christians  had  also  suffered  se 
verely  ;  but  their  spirits  rose  with  the  retreat  of  their 
enemy.  They  began  to  have  hopes  that  the  Moors 
would  abandon  the  siege  entirely. 

These  hopes,  however,  were  destined  not  to  be  real 
ized.  But  a  few  hours  were  suffered  to  pass  before  the 
besiegers'  batteries  were  again  in  full  play — their  fire 
was  kept  up  with  even  more  than  usual  vigor.  In  a 
few  days  fresh  guns  were  planted,  and  additional  breach 
es  began  to  show  themselves  in  the  crumbling  walls. 
A  constant  succession  of  small  assaults  was  kept  up 
day  and  night,  exhausting  the  garrison  by  the  neces 
sity  of  continual  watchfulness. 

The  time  arrived  when  the  shereef  determined  to 
hazard  a  general  storm.  In  open  day  the  whole  army 
advanced,  headed  by  the  prince  in  person.  All  points 


INEZ      D  E      M  E  X  C  1  A      M  O  NT  -  RO  Y  .  223 

of  the  works  were  attacked  at  once.  Select  bodies  of 
troops  rushed  upon  the  breaches,  while  others  filled  up 
the  ditches  with  facines,  and  applied  scaling  ladders  to 
the  walls. 

At  every  point  the  Christians,  reduced  in  numbers 
as  they  were,  met  them  manfully.  Wherever  the  tide 
of  battle  pressed  most  heavily,  and  at  the  instant  of 
greatest  danger,  there  was  the  tall  figure  of  the  gallant 
Mont-Roy,  encouraging  his  men  by  word  and  deed. 

Inez,  unable  to  resist  the  terrible  fascination  of  the 
scene,  was  upon  the  terrace.  She  saw  the  tremendous  rush 
of  the  Moors — she  saw  the  firm  array  of  the  Christians 
— she  watched  the  varying  perils  of  the  fight  with  an 
eye  not  unpractised  in  the  chances  and  changes  of  bat 
tle — and  she  marked  with  a  growing  feeling  of  confi 
dence  the  wavering  of  the  enemy,  and  the  unfaltering 
mien  of  the  Christians.  Already,  at  several  points,  the 
Moors  had  been  driven  back  with  great  loss;  when  sud 
denly  she  felt  a  shock,  as  if  of  an  earthquake.  The 
castle  quivered  and  rocked  to  its  foundations,  and  the 
next  instant  there  shot  up  from  the  centre  of  the  town 
a  broad  column  of  smoke  and  dust,  mingled  with  frag 
ments  of  timber  and  stone,  obscuring  the  sun,  and  shut 
ting  out  from  Inez's  eyes  all  view  of  the  ramparts. 
The  principal  magazine  had,  by  some  sad  accident,  been 
fired.  An  awful  roar  accompanied  the  explosion,  over 
whelming  for  a  moment  the  din  of  battle.  For  an  in- 


224  ROMANCE      DUST. 

stant  both  parties  paused:  the  Moors  in  astonishment — 
the  Christians  in  affright.  But  it  was  but  for  an  instant. 
Urged  on  by  the  impetuous  shereef,  the  besiegers  rushed 
upon  the  paralysed  Christians  with  renewed  vigor;  and 
as  the  smoke  of  the  explosion  cleared  away,  Inez  saw 
with  terror  that  the  defences  had  been  forced,  and  that 
the  Infidels  were  pouring  into  the  town.  They  swarmed 
over  the  battlements — they  rushed  through  the  breaches 
— the  gates  were  opened,  and  countless  hosts  swept 
through  them  into  the  streets. 

Mingled  with  the  shouts  of  the  assailants  and  the 
clash  of  arms,  there  came  now  up  to  the  ears  of  Inez 
the  loud  wail  of  fear — the  shrieks  of  women  and  the 
cries  of  children.  No  quarter  was  given.  Sixteen  thou 
sand  Moors  had  perished  in  the  attack,  and  their  deaths 
were  to  be  revenged. 

The  noise  of  the  tumult  rapidly  approached  the  cas 
tle.  Inez  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  shrank 
trembling  with  terror  into  a  corner  of  the  parapet.  A 
few  Christians,  headed  by  Mont-Roy,  made  a  last  stand 
at  the  gate  of  the  chief  court ;  but  in  vain — they  were 
instantly  overborne  by  numbers.  Mont-Roy,  despe 
rately  wounded,  was  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  would 
have  been  instantly  killed,  had  not  the  young  shereef 
sprang  to  his  aid,  and  standing  over  him,  beat  back 
his  followers  with  a  sweep  of  his  scimitar. 


INEZ      DE      MEN  CIA     MONT-ROY.  225 

"Inez!"  exclaimed  the  young  man;  "where  is  Inez? 
Tell  me,  that  I  may  save  her !" 

"You  will  find  her  on  the  terrace,"  replied  Mont- 
Roy. 

Mohammed  stopped  but  to  order  a  favorite  kaid 
to  guard,  at  the  peril  of  his  head,  the  life  of  the  gover 
nor  ;  and  then  darting  up  the  stairs,  before  any  of  his 
men  could  follow  him,  he  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
turret,  and  rushed  upon  the  terrace. 

"  Come,  lady,"  exclaimed  the  shereef,  "  this  is  no 
place  for  you ;  my  men  will  soon  be  pouring  over  from 
yonder  bastion.  Come  with  me  to  your  apartments 
below,  where  I  will  have  power  to  defend  you  against 
the  brutal  fanatics  who  will  soon  surround  us." 

Inez  was  unable  to  move  or  reply.  Mohammed, 
with  characteristic  promptness,  lifted  her  in  his  arms, 
and  bore  her  into  the  turret.  At  the  foot  of  the  first 
staircase  was  a  large  apartment,  where  Mohammed  de 
posited  his  burden,  and  securing  the  door,  took  up  a 
position  on  the  outside.  The  movements  of  the  she- 
reef,  rapid  as  they  had  been,  were  effected  not  an  in 
stant  too  soon.  Already  the  upper  halls  and  corridors 
were  swarming  with  crowds  of  fierce,  lawless  fanatics  from 
the  Desert — owning,  even  when  in  their  senses,  no  autho 
rity  ;  but  now  infuriated  with  the  excitement  of  the 
conflict,  and  maddened  by  the  fumes  of  opium  and 
wild  hemp. 


226  ROMANCE     DUST. 

Mahommed  maintained  his  position,  until  gradually 
he  had  collected  around  him  a  body  of  his  own  imme 
diate  followers.  When  in  sufficient  force,  the  wild  chil 
dren  of  the  desert  were  summarily  ejected,  and  order 
restored  in  the  castle.  Not  so  in  the  town;  all  night 
the  work  of  destruction  went  on.  Every  house  was 
broken  into  and  plundered;  and  by  morning  not  a  man, 
woman,  or  child,  except  Mont-Roy  and  his  daughter, 
was  left  alive  to  tell  the  sad  tale. 


INEZ     DE     MEN  CIA     MONT -ROY.  227 


CHAPTEE   V. 


FAIR  Inez  was  seated  by  the  couch  of  her  father, 
whose  wounds,  although  severe,  promised  not  to  be 
mortal.  It  was  the  day  after  the  battle.  All  was  now 
calm;  but  it  was  the  calmness  of  desolation  and  death. 

She  arose,  and  looked  out  from  the  narrow  window 
upon  the  terraces  of  the  lower  town.  What  a  scene 
met  her  eyes.  Wherever  she  turned,  stains  of  blood 
marked  the  white-washed  walls,  and  corpses  of  women 
and  children  covered  the  flat  roofs.  She  retreated  from 
the  window  with  a  shudder. 

"  'Tis  a  terrible  sight,  my  daughter,"  exclaimed  Mont- 
Roy.  "  Would  that  neither  you  or  I  had  lived  to  wit 
ness  it." 

After  a  pause  he  resumed  :  "  For  me,  Inez,  it  does 
not  much  matter — my  race  is  nearly  run.  I  cannot 
long  remain  a  prisoner  to  the  Moor.  But  you,  Inez — 
oh !  what  may  not  cruel  fate  have  in  store  for  you ! 
Come  closer  to  me,  girl.  I  would  fain  speak  to  you 


228  ROMANCE      DUST. 

while  we  have  time.  There  is  no  knowing  how  soon 
we  may  be  separated." 

"  Fear  not,  dear  father,"  replied  Inez ;  "  we  surely 
can  trust  the  generosity  of  the  shereef." 

"The  generosity  of  a  Moor!"  returned  Mont-Roy. 
"  And  towards  a  Christian  !  'Tis  a  poor  ground  of  con 
fidence,  my  daughter.  This  shereef  has,  perhaps,  bet 
ter  qualities  than  most  of  his  kind  ;  but  I  have  lit 
tle  hopes  in  his  generosity  or  magnanimity.  No,  Inez, 
there  is  but  one  way  in  which  you  can  secure  his  for 
bearance." 

The  cheek  of  Inez  grew  deadly  pale,  and  her  heart 
almost  ceased  to  beat,  as  her  eyes  met  the  anxious  and 
mournful  glance  of  her  father. 

"  But  one  way,  Inez ;  and  that  is to  apostatize — 

to  embrace  the  religion  of  Mohammed  !" 

"  Never  !"  replied  Inez,  energetically. 

"You  promise?" 

"  I  will  swear  it !  Put  the  oath  in  the  most  solemn 
form — I  will  swear  it !" 

"  They  will  treat  you  with  cruelty,  my  daughter ; 
they  will  threaten  you — perhaps  torture  you." 

"  They  may  crucify  me,  as  did  the  Jews  our  bless 
ed  Lord;  but  I  shall  die  a  Christian." 

"I  doubt  it  not,  my  daughter;  but  they  may  cru 
cify  me — you  will  still  be  firm.  What  is  this  world 
to  me — old,  wounded,  a  prisoner  ?  Would  not  the 


INEZ     DE     MENC1A     MONT -ROY.  229 

little  remnant  of  life  be  dearly  purchased  by  the  loss 
of  my  daughter  for  ever?  Inez,  you  must  swear  by 
the  memory  of  your  mother — by  the  honor  of  the  Mont- 
Roys — by  your  hopes  of  heaven — that  no  considera 
tion  for  my  safety  shall  influence  you." 

"  Father,  I  swear !"  replied  Inez,  raising  with  trem 
bling  hand  a  small  crucifix  hanging  from  her  neck  to 
her  colorless  lips. 

"  But,  dearest  father,"  she  continued,  with  sudden 
vivacity,  "  we  may  be  doing  the  shereef  great  injus 
tice.  Surely,  he  has  done  nothing  to  warrant  your 
tears." 

"Nothing,  Inez,  but  to  come  upon  us  with  all  the 
force  he  could  muster.  Nothing,  but  to  risk  his  life, 
and  the  lives  of  thousands  of  his  followers.  Nothing, 
but  to  pile  the  streets  and  terraces  of  this  town  with 
the  bodies  of  our  friends  and  fellow-citizens.  And  all 
for  you,  Inez.  Now  that  he  has  you  in  his  power,  will 
he  pause  for  a  maiden's  tears  ?  He  is  determined  to 
add  you  to  his  harem — he  is  resolved  to  wed  you. 
You,  Inez,  would  not  make  one  of  a  crowd  of  slavish 
women  ?" 

'  "  No,  father ;  but  the  shereef  is  noble  and  enlight 
ened,  and  perhaps  in  this  he  may  conform  to  our  Chris 
tian  customs." 

"True,  your  influence  might  extend  this  far — you 
might  become  his  only  wife  ;  for  I  believe  he  loves 


230  ROMANCE     DUST. 

you ;  but,  Inez,  he  never  can,  and  never  will  wed  a 
Christian.  I  know  him  and  his  prejudices  well.  He 
is  at  heart  a  bigoted,  Christian-hating  fanatic.  His  very 
love  will  compel  him  to  use  every  means  to  force  you 
into  becoming  a  Mohammedan.  I  tell  you  this,  Inez, 
that  you  may  be  prepared  for  the  worst.  Pray  that 
I  may  be  in  error;  but  pray  also  that  God  will  give 
you  strength,  through  his  grace,  to  meet  what  may 
come,  as  should  a  daughter  of  the  Mont-Roy." 

Inez  listened  to  her  father's  melancholy  forebodings 
with  a  sinking  heart.  Still  she  clung  to  the  idea  that 
the  shereef  would  never  proceed  to  the  extremity  of 
violence,  however  urgently  he  might  assail  her  with  en 
treaties.  She  thought  that  her  father  must  be  deceived 
in  reference  to  his  character  and  designs.  She  could 
not  comprehend  the  selfishness  of  that  love  which  would 
compel  her  to  peril  her  soul.  Alas!  her  ignorance  was 
soon  to  be  enlightened,  and  the  sad  forebodings  of  her 
father  realized. 

The  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  when  Mohammed 
sought  an  interview  with  her.  His  bearing,  at  first  re 
spectful  and  deferential,  soon  grew  tender  and  impas 
sioned.  He  told  her  that  he  loved  her;  that  his*  passion 
had  grown  by  reason  of  the  rejection  of  his  proposi 
tions  by  her  father,  until  power,  empire,  life  itself,  were 
all  too  worthless  not  to  risk  them  for  her. 

Inez   listened  in  silence.     She   knew  not  how  to  re- 


INEZ     DK     MEN  CIA     MONT-ROY.  231 

ply.  She  felt  such  a  contrariety  of  emotions.  At  one 
moment  she  was  almost  desposed  to  yield  herself  to 
what  appeared  to  be  her  fate,  and  confess  a  feeling  of 
passionate  love  in  return ;  the  next,  she  thought  of  her 
father,  her  country,  and  her  faith,  and  shrank  back 
trembling  and  in  fear. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Inez,"  exclaimed  the  young  prince.  "  I 
know  the  prejudices  of  your  country  in  relation  to  mar 
riage.  You  hold  that  it  is  not  lawful  for  a  man  to  have 
more  than  one  wife.  The  law  of  my  Prophet  and  the 
customs  of  my  country  are  different;  but  I  will  con 
form  to  your  notions.  You  shall  be  the  only  partner 
of  my  affections.  Never  will  I  bestow  a  look  of  re 
gard  upon  one  of  your  sex.  Inez,  I  will  be  your  slave 
— yours,  and  yours  alone,  for  ever." 

Inez  felt  a  thrill  of  delight  at  the  words  of  Moham 
med.  They  seemed  to  prove  him  willing  to  yield  every 
thing  to  her.  Her  father  must  be  deceived  in  his  cha 
racter.  The  shereef  would  never  insist  upon  a  renun 
ciation  of  her  faith.  True,  he  might  refuse  to  embrace 
Christianity  himself;  and  that,  provided  she  were  free, 
would  be  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  her  ;  but  under 
existing  circumstances,  and  completely  in  his  power, 
she  could  not  see  how  that  alone  could  prevent  her 
from  becoming  his  wife,  in  case  he  was  determined  to 
make  her  so,  and  would  take  her  without  attempting 
to  convert  her  to  Mohammedanism. 


232  li  G  M  A  N  0  E     DUST. 

Gathering  courage  as  the  shereef  continued  to  pour 
forth  his  protestations  of  passion,  she  at  length  ven 
tured  to  test  with  a  suggestion  the  questionable  ground. 

"  You  forget,  seiior,"  she  whispered,  "  that  I  am  a 
Christian." 

The  shereef  started — hesitated  for  a  moment ;  and 
then  bending  towards  her,  replied. 

"I  do  not  forget  it,  Inez;  though  I  should  like  to 
do  so.  But  it  may  not  be.  Were  I  a  common  Moor, 
it  would  not  so  much  matter;  but  being  a  descendant 
of  the  Prophet,  I  cannot  wed  a  Kaffir.  I  cannot  even 
suffer  one  to  enter  my  harem  as  a  slave.  The  whole 
fabric  of  my  social  and  political  power  depends  upon 
an  opinion  of  my  superior  sanctity  and  austerity. 
Were  I  to  wed  a  Christian,  my  reputation,  and  with  it 
my  influence,  would  be  lost.  My  brother  Hammed 
would  gladly  take  advantage  of  my  mistake ;  the  scep 
tre  of  the  Oataze  would  pass  from  my  grasp;  and  it 
might  well  happen  that  the  solitude  of  the  desert  would 
afford  my  only  refuge.  But  besides  all  this,  Inez,  I 
love  you  too  well  to  permit  you  to  remain  a  contemner 
of  the  true  prophet  of  God.  Enchanting  daughter  of 
the  Infidel,  you  will  renounce  your  false  worship.  Ah ! 
Inez,  you  will  let  me  guide  your  steps  into  the  paths 
of  paradise." 

u  Senor,  it  cannot  be,"  replied    Inez,  shrinking  back, 
sind  withdrawing  her  hand.    "  You  know  my  sentiments. 


INEZ     DE     ME  NCI  A     MONT-KOY.  233 

I    told   you   them    the   other   morning    when    you    stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  bastion." 

"  Let  me  hope,"  interposed  Mohammed,  that  you 
have  since  seen  cause  to  change  them.  Our  relative 
situations  are  very  different  now ;  stone  walls  no  longer 
divide  us." 

"I  know  it  well,"  replied  Inez;  "but  that  affects 
not  my  purpose.  My  faith  is  as  much  under  my  own 
control  as  when  protected  by  wall  and  rampart." 

A  frown  gathered  itself  upon  the  brow  of  the 
shereef. 

"  Bethink  you,  Inez,"  he  exclaimed  passionately. 
"  You  are  completely  in  my  power  :  you  are  the  cap 
tive  of  my  sword — you  are  my  slave.  I  ask  you  but 
to  pronounce  once  in  public  the  profession  of  the  true 
faith,  and  I,  your  master,  will  become  your  slave." 

"  It  cannot  be,  senor,"  replied  Inez.  "  'Tis  of  no 
avail  to  press  me  further." 

-Mohammed    suddenly    threw    himself    on    his   knees 
before  her,  and  seized   her  hand. 

"Inez,  I  beg  you,  by  all  your  hopes  of  life  and  hap 
piness — by  all  the  love  that  in  your  heart  I  know  you 
feel  for  me — to  grant  me  this!" 

"Senor,  by  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  hereafter,  I 
cannot,"  she  replied,  in  a  mournful  but  steady  voice. 

Mohammed  started  to  his  feet;  the  frown  on  his 
brow  grew  darker,  and  his  tones  sterner,  as  he  exclaim- 


234  ROMANCE      DUST. 

ed  :  "  Girl,  girl,  think  what  you  say.  'Tis  no  light 
matter  that  you  resolve  upon.  Hitherto,  I  have  en 
treated — force  me  not  to  command." 

"Command,  seiior'?" 

"  Aye,  command.     Are  you  not  my  slave  V1 

"  I  am  in  your  hands.  You  can  take  my  life  if 
you  please.  But  when  you  command  me  to  renounce 
my  faith  in  Christ,  your  commands  are  powerless." 

Inez  spoke  hardly  above  a  whisper;  but  then  there 
was  something  in  her  tone  which  convinced  the  young 
shereef  that  it  would  be  no  easy  work  to  change  her 
determination.  The  expression  of  firmness  irritated  him. 
Few  men  like  it  in  women  upon  any  subject. 

The  shereef  was  a  man,  and  what  was  more,  he 
was  a  Moor ;  and,  therefore,  not  likely  to  have  any 
very  exalted  idea  of  woman's  rights.  His  eye  flashed 
with  the  lurid  gleam  of  a  tiger — his  lips  were  color 
less  and  tightly  compressed.  But  with  an  effort  he  sup- 
pressed  his  rising  passion,  and  once  more  besought  her 
tenderly  not  to  compel  him  to  exert  harshly  the  power 
he  had  over  her. 

"I  will  leave  you  now,  Inez,"  he  exclaimed.  "Let 
me  hope  that  you  will  have  changed  your  determina 
tion  when  I  see  you  again." 

"  Senor,"  returned  Inez,  rising  and  interrupting  him 
as  he  was  about  to  close  the  door,  "  I  cannot  permit 
you  to  depart  with  any  such  hope.  I  am  a  Christian: 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT -ROY.  235 

as  a  Christian  only  will  I  live — as  a  Christian  will  I 
die." 

Mohammed  paused,  glared  fiercely  upon  her  for 
a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  not  willing  to  trust  himself 
with  further  speech,  turned  and  left  the  room. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  the  young  shereef  had 
ever  encountered  any  one  who,  to  his  face,  had  dared 
oppose  his  will.  That  a  slave  should  now  do  so,  and 
that  slave  a  Christian  and  a  woman,  roused  all  the 
man  and  the  Moor.  Fitfully  he  paced  one  of  the  cor 
ridors  of  the  castle.  Careless  of  the  glances  of  his 
wondering  kaids  and  frightened  slaves,  he  clenched  his 
hands,  stamped  his  feet,  and  gave  free  vent  to  the  sea 
of  passion  surging  within  his  breast. 

"  By  Allah !"  he  muttered,  "  I  will  grind  her  ob 
stinate  will  to  the  dust.  Curses  on  her  false  faith  ! 
She  shall  renounce  it,  if  I  have  to  give  her  to  the  fire 
and  faggot.  And  yet  I  am  in  her  toils — I  dare  not 
harm  her.  By  the  bones  of  my  ancestor  !  I  could  find 
it  in  my  heart  to  throw  her  from  yon  window  to  the 
dogs,  were  it  not  that  my  love  would  make  me  follow 
her.  By  heavens !  she  must  be  mine !  I  cannot  live 
without  her." 

The  next  morning  another  interview  followed.  It 
was  but  a  repetition  of  the  one  we  have  just  described, 
except  that  the  conclusion  of  it  was  more  stormy,  and 
marked  by  a  still  sterner  and  fiercer  tone  on  the  part 


236  ROMANCE     DUST. 

of  the  shereef.  The  same  arguments  and  entreaties 
were  urged  by  him — the  same  faintly-spoken,  but  firm- 
hearted  denial  made  by  Inez. 

"  Senor,"  said  Inez,  mournfully,  "  you  say  you  love, 
and  yet  you  would  make  me  peril  my  soul.  You 
would  compel  me  to  utter  a  lie — to  assert  a  belief  in 
a  faith  which  I  cannot  but  hold  to  be  a  delusion.  You 
love  me !  Away  with  such  idle  talk.  Love — not  even 
the  love  of  man  can  be  so  selfish,  so  cruel.  I  know 
that  in  the  creed  of  your  countrymen  woman's  faith 
and  feelings  are  of  little  worth;  but  not  even  a  Moor 
could  love  a  Christian  maiden,  and  treat  her  thus.  Se 
nor,  your  love  is  a  cheat — a  sham — a  vile,  base  lie." 

Again  and  again  did  Mohammed  protest  the  purity 
and  strength  of  his  passion.  He  entreated — he  threatened. 

At  length  his  threats  took  form  and  shape,  and  as 
they  did  so,  they  fell  upon  her  heart  like  a  flight  of 
locusts  upon  a  garden — the  flowers  of  hope  were  ut 
terly  consumed.  He  swore  that  he  would  visit  the  sin 
of  her  refusal  upon  her  father.  That  the  life  of  Mont- 
Roy  should  expiate  the  obstinacy  of  his  daughter. 

"  The  sword  is  in  your  power,"  he  exclaimed — 
"your  hand  shall  direct  it  upon  or  turn  it  from  the 
neck  of  your  father." 

"  Oh  !  senor,"  gasped  Inez,  "  be  generous ;  take  my 
life — kill  me  with  the  most  horrid  tortures;  but  spare 
my  father." 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  237 

"  And  you  will  renounce  your  cursed  creed  1"  hissed 
Mohammed. 

"  Never !" 

"  Not  even  to  save  your  father  ?" 

"  A  Mont-Roy  knows  how  to  die.  He  would  not 
save  his  life  by  the  apostacy  of  his  daughter." 

"  Then,  by  Allah !  and  by  the  soul  of  my  great  an 
cestor  !"  shouted  the  prince,  "  his  body  shall  be,  ere 
the  sun  has  set,  the  prey  of  the  hound  and  the  vulture. 
And  you,  Christian  witch  ! — sorceress  !  parracide  ! — I 
will  still  find  means  to  compel  you  to  terms.  Away 
all  scruple.  You  shall — mark  me,  girl — you  shall  ac 
knowledge  my  ancestor  as  the  Prophet  of  God  !" 

Mohammed  rushed  from  the  room,  leaving  Inez  in 
a  condition  of  mind  and  body  which  will  be  best  left 
to  the  imagination  of  the  reader  to  depict. 


238  ROMANCE     DUST. 


CHAPTEE   YI. 


THE  strength  of  Mont-Roy  was  rapidly  returning ; 
he  was  able  to  stand,  and  even  to  walk  his  chamber, 
within  two  days  after  the  capture  of  the  town. 

With  faltering  steps  Inez  sought  his  presence,  after 
her  last  interview  with  the  shereef.  Her  father  started 
with  surprise  at  the  change  which  an  hour  had  wrought 
in  her  appearance.  Her  face  was  pale  before,  and  her 
expression  one  of  care;  but  now,  the  pallor  of  her 
cheek  and  lip  was  terrible,  while  an  emotion  of  mingled 
grief  and  terror  overspread  her  whole  countenance,  and 
seemed  to  pervade  every  fibre  of  her  frame  contract 
ing  and  angularizing  the  outlines  of  her  round  and 
graceful  figure. 

With  difficulty  Mont-Roy  drew  from  his  daughter  an 
account  of  her  interview  with  the  prince.  Inez  feared 
to  alarm  her  father  ;  and,  besides,  she  felt  an  almost 
invincible  repugnance  to  repeating,  even  to  herself,  the 
threats  of  the  shereef.  She  dreaded  to  admit  the  utter 
want  of  magnanimity  they  implied,  and  she  shrank  from 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  239 

letting  her  father  see  how  poor  and  mean  the  senti 
ments  and  feelings  of  her  lover  appeared.  But  when 
compelled,  in  answer  to  her  father's  questioning,  to  re 
peat  all  that  was  said,  she  still  endeavored  to  screen 
him  in  part — suggesting  that  he  could  not  be  in  earn 
est — that  his  threats  in  relation  to  her  father  had  been 
uttered  merely  to  try  her. 

Mont-Roy  shook  his  head.  "  Trust  him  not :  he  will 
do  what  he  says  he  will.  He  is  not,  perhaps,  wantonly 
cruel ;  but  his  whole  history  shows  that  he  has  no  pity 
when  he  has  a  purpose  to  serve  by  cruelty.  But  you, 
my  daughter,  will  not  be  moved  by  his  threats  1  I 
shall  go  to  my  death  calmly,  if  I  know  that  you  are 
firm." 

Again  and  again  did  Inez  promise  her  father  not 
to  yield  to  any  considerations  for  his  safety. 

Her  constancy  was  soon  to  be  put  to  the  test.  The 
tramp  of  heavy  feet  and  the  clanking  of  iron  was  heard 
in  the  anti-room.  Mont-Roy  folded  the  trembling  form 
of  his  daughter  to  his  heart.  He  had  hardly  time  for 
a  short  and  fervent  prayer,  when  the  door  was  rudely 
flung  open,  and  half  a  dozen  men,  bearing  fetters  and 
a  heavy  iron  chain,  entered.  Without  a  word  they  pro 
ceeded  to  put  the  irons  upon  his  hands,  and  to  pass 
the  chain  around  his  body.  During  this  operation  Inez 
stood  without  motion — almost  without  sense. 

The    prisoner   was   now   ordered   to   accompany    his 


240  ROMANCE     DUST. 

keepers.  Mont-Roy  raised  his  manacled  hands  over  the 
bowed  head  of  Inez.  The  action  seemed  to  give  her 
life,  and  she  sprang  upon  his  bosom. 

"Oh,  father!  father!  what  is  this?  What  is  it  that 
they  are  going  to  do1?"  sobbed  Inez  convulsively. 

"  Hush  !  Inez,  be  firm — remember  your  promise ; 
and  we  shall  meet in  heaven." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  one  of  the 
Moors,  who  seizing  Inez  roughly,  tore  her  from  her  fa 
ther's  arms,  and  hurled  her  with  force  towards  the  couch 
in  a  distant  corner  of  the  room. 

Inez  sprang  to  her  feet  as  the  door  closed  upon 
Mont-Roy,  and  rushed  after  him.  She  reached  the  anti- 
room  ;  but  not  in  time.  The  group  had  just  disappear 
ed,  and  she  heard  the  heavy  iron  bolts  of  the  door 
slide  into  place.  Another  door,  however,  stood  par 
tially  open — its  threshold  darkened  by  the  figure  of  the 
shereef.  His  face  was  pale  and  haggard ;  his  lips  parch 
ed,  bloodless,  and  compressed ;  while  his  eye,  lurid  and 
glassy  as  the  gleam  of  a  deep  mountain  lake  lighted 
up  by  a  volcano,  gave  token  of  the  mental  conflict 
raging  within.  He  took  a  step  within  the  room,  but 
hesitated  to  advance.  With  a  shriek  of  agonized  sup 
plication  Inez  rushed  towards  him,  and  threw  herself 
at  his  feet. 

"  Mercy  !  mercy,  senor !"  she  cried.  "  Have  mercy 
on  me,  and  save  my  father." 


INEZ      DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  241 

Mohammed   looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

"You  pray  for  mercy,"  he  replied  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
"  and  you  have  no  mercy — no  mercy  upon  me — no 
mercy  upon  your  own  father.  You  doom  him  to  death, 
not  I.  He  dies  for  and  through  his  daughter's  obsti 
nacy." 

"He  would  die  ten  thousand  deaths  if  I  were  to 
yield.  Oh  !  senor,  think  what  it  is  to  give  up  the 
faith  of  my  fathers ;  to  renounce  a  Saviour  who  died 
that  I  might  live.  Could  anything  induce  you  to  deny 
your  Prophet?  Leave  me  to  believe  in  mine." 

The  shereef  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  The  cases  are  different,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Your 
faith  is  false ;  and  besides,  I  seek  not  now  to  change 
your  secret  convictions.  I  will  leave  that  to  time.  All 
I  ask  is  a  public  profession  of  a  belief  in  Mohammed." 

"  Oh  !  senor,"  replied  Inez,  bending  forward  and 
clasping  his  knees,  "  I .  dare  not.  The  lie  would  blast 
me.  The  anger  of  the  true  God  would  follow  me. 
Christ  and  all  the  saints  would  turn  from  me.  My 
father  would  curse  me;  and  you,  senor,  you  would  de 
spise  me.  You  think  not  so  now ;  but,  senor,  I  should 
be  unworthy  of  any  man's  love  were  I  so  weak  and 
so  wicked." 

There  was  so  much  of  truth  in  Inez's  words,  and  so 
much  of  pure  and  simple  pathos  in  her  tones,  that 
the  shereef  felt  for  a  moment  his  resolution  giving  way. 


242  ROMANCE     DUST. 

But  with  an  effort  he  banished  the  rising  sentiment, 
and  steeled  himself  against  the  supplications  of  the  fair 
being  at  his  feet.  Her  very  beauty,  uncared  for  as  it 
was  by  the  usual  proprieties  of  dress,  while  it  fired  his 
passions,  nerved  his  heart  to  the  firmness  necessary  to 
make  her  his.  He  started  back,  stamped  his  foot  upon 
the  floor,  and  by  the  action  opened  the  sluices  of  an 
ger,  flooding  in  an  instant  with  rage  all  his  better  emo 
tions.  Instantly  he  felt  himself  an  ill-used,  much-abused 
man.  It  was  infamous  and  unpardonable  that  his  will 
should  be  thwarted  ;  that  a  slave — a  woman  and  a 
Christian — should  dare  to  disobey  his  commands. 

"  Inez  !"  he  exclaimed  fiercely,  "  doom  your  father 
to  death  if  you  will ;  you  know  the  terms — you,  and 
and  you  alone,  can  save  him." 

"  Senor,  I  dare  not,"   gasped  Inez. 

"  Then,  by  the  holy  Prophet  of  God !  miserable 
daughter  of  the  Christian,  he  dies." 

Mohammed's  voice  trembled  with  passion,  and  he 
clutched  the  door  with  a  grasp  that  left  the  impression 
of  his  fingers  upon  the  solid  wood. 

"  And  no  common  death,"  he  continued,  grasping 
Inez  by  the  arm,  raising  her  from  the  floor,  and  draw 
ing  her  towards  him,  until  face  to  face,  he  glared  into 
her  shrinking  eyes  with  a  look  of  intense  ferocity. 
"  And  no  common  death,  murderess  ! — paracide  !  Your 
father  dies  at  the  stake." 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  243 

The  shereef  relaxed  his  grasp  upon  her  person.  Inez 
flung  her  hands  wildly  to  her  head,  staggered  back,  and 
with  a  groan  of  heart-rending  agony  sank  to  the  floor 
insensible.  The  shereef  paused  and  looked  at  her  for 
a  moment.  No  feeling  of  compassion  animated  his 
breast.  He  would  not  save  her  one  pang  if  he  could. 
What  were  her  sufferings  to  his  ?  Love  her  ?  True,  he 
did  love  her  once,  but  he  felt  that  the  thunder  gust  of 
rage  had  curdled  his  love  into  hate — he  hated  her  and  her 
whole  race.  Would  that  she  embodied  all  of  Christia 
nity  in  her  own  person,  and  his  dagger  should  at  once 
end  the  contest  between  the  Believer  and  the  Infidel. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  leave  her  as  she  fell ;  but 
there  was  something  unmanly  in  so  doing  that  prevent 
ed  him.  He  raised  her  in  his  arms,  and  carrying  her 
into  the  inner  chamber,  laid  her  carefully  upon  the 
couch.  For  a  few  moments  he  hung  over  her  in  a  dif 
ferent  mood — a  wild  gust  of  passionate  tenderness  swept 
through  his  soul.  He  felt  his  frame  glow  and  tingle 
with  the  maddening  sensation.  He  longed  to  throw  him 
self  at  her  feet — to  submit  his  will  to  hers — to  fold  her 
to  his  bosom,  and  protect  her  against  every  one — even 
himself. 

Inez  opened  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  upon  him  with 
an  expression  that  pierced  to  the  very  centre  of  his  soul. 
Suddenly  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  imprinted 
an  impassioned  kiss  upon  her  lips. 


244  ROMANCE     DUST. 

"You  will  yield,  Inez1?"  he  whispered;  "dear  Inez! 
you  will  yield'?" 

"  I  cannot,"  murmured  Inez,  as  she  lay  unresisting, 
pallid,  and  cold  in  his  arms. 

Mohammed  started,  as  if  stung  by  an  adder.  In  an 
instant  the  selfish  instincts  of  manhood,  and  the  hard, 
stern  feelings  of  the  bigot,  flashed  their  lurid  light 
above  the  gentler  glow  of  the  affections.  He  stalked  to 
the  door,  closed  it  behind  him  with  violence,  and  strode 
off,  more  than  ever  determined  to  break  her  to  his  will, 
or  kill  her — and  with  her  his  dearest  hopes — in  the 
effort. 

He  sought  a  narrow,  gloomy  hall  of  the  castle,  and 
hour  after  hour  paced  its  marble  floor  with  fitful  stride. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  a  sense  of  impo 
tence.  He  knew  that  in  ordering  her  father  to  death 
he  had  exhausted  his  means  of  coercion.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  further  but  torture.  "  I  will  consult 
Kaid  Boufra,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  he  is  her  countryman, 
and  he  has  the  ingenuity  of  a  very  fiend." 

Kaid  Boufra  was  summoned.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
entered,  and  shuffling  along  the  corridor  with  a  most 
servile  gait,  he  stooped,  seized  the  hem  of  Mo 
hammed's  haick,  and  fervently  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 
The  kaid  was  not  an  ill-favored  man  naturally,  but  still 
there  was  something  exceedingly  repulsive  in  his  coun 
tenance — the  result  of  a  long  training  of  his  features 


INEZ      DE      MENCIA^     MONT-ROY.  245 

in  the  school  of  sensuality  and  intemperance.  He  was 
tall;  rather  fair  for  one  of  his  country,  with  an  expand 
ed  forehead  and  an  intelligent  eye,  the  expression  of 
which,  however,  was  marred  by  a  look  of  malignant 
cunning. 

"  The  slave  of  the  shereef  awaits  the  orders  of  his 
master,"  exclaimed  the  kaid,  stealing  a  look  that  lighted 
up  with  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  at  the  wan  and  ghastly 
face  of  the  prince. 

"  Kaid  Boufra,"  said  Mohammed,  "  you  were  a  Por 
tuguese  and  a  Christian.  How  long  is  it  since  your 
eyes  were  enlightened  to  the  errors  of  the  Infidel  ?" 

"It  is  now  six  years,"  replied  the  kaid,  somewhat 
startled  by  the  question,  "  since  your  slave  renounced 
the  idolatry  of  his  fathers,  and  became  a  follower  of 
the  true  faith." 

"  And  what  was  the  moving  cause  of  the  change  1" 
demanded  Mohammed ;  "  or  rather  what  was  the  cause 
of  your  leaving  the  garrison  of  this  town,  and  joining 
my  camp  ?  The  story  has  passed  from  my  mind." 

A  convulsion  of  rage  agitated  the  features  of  the 
kaid ;  but  he  smoothed  them  with  an  effort,  and  re 
plied.  "  'Twas  a  difficulty  with  the  Mont-Roy.  May 
the  curse  of  the  Prophet  be  upon  him  for  ever  !  We 
could  not  live  together  in  the  same  town.  He  was 
governor,  and  I  but  a  poor  soldier  of  artillery — he 


246 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


reviled   me,    and   would   have   punished   me ;    and   so   I 
took  my  leave  of  him." 

"  You  know  the  Mont-Roy,  then  1"  demanded  the 
prince. 

"  No  one  knows  him  better,"  replied  the  kaid. 

"He  is  of  a  firm  and  resolute  race?" 

"  I  would  say  that  for  him,  if  I  had  my  dagger  in 
his  heart,"  replied  the  kaid. 

"  There  is  but  small  chance  then  of  compelling  him 
to  change  his  religion  T 

"  A  small  chance,  indeed ;  but  if  my  lord  the  she- 
reef  will  deliver  him  into  my  hands,  that  chance  shall 
be  improved  to  the  utmost." 

Mohammed  turned  away,  and  again  strode  back 
and  forth  in  a  silence  which  the  kaid  did  not  dare  to 
interrupt.  At  length,  as  if  having  made  up  his  mind 
upon  the  subject,  he  suddenly  stopped  before  the  kaid, 
and  grasping  his  arm,  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 

"  It  is  not  the  Mont-Roy  himself  that  I  would  force 
into  a  recantation  of  his  faith.  He  may  die  in  his  fol 
ly,  and  the  black  angels  of  despair  may  carry  his  soul 
to  the  pit  of  flames,  for  all  that  I  care.  But  it  is  his 
daughter  whom  I  would  save.  You,  kaid,  have  been  a 
Christian — you  know  their  ways — you  know  the  Mont- 
Roy — J°u  are  fertile  in  expedients.  Show  me  the 
means  by  which  I  can  compel  this  daughter  of  the 


INEZ     D  E     M  E  N  C  I  A     MONT-ROY.  247 

Christian  to  utter  but  once  the  profession  of  our  faith, 
and  name  your  own  reward." 

Kaid  Boufra's  face  beamed  with  delight  as  he  lis 
tened  to  the  words  of  the  shereef.  An  opportunity  of 
paying  to  his  former  commander  a  portion  of  the  deep 
debt  of  vengeance  he  had  owed  him  for  years,  seemed 
to  open  before  him.  He  listened  with  interest  to  the 
shereef 's  account  of  his  efforts  to  compel  Inez  to  re 
nounce  her  creed. 

"It  was  a  mistake  to  allow  any  communication  be 
tween  father  and  daughter,"  observed  the  kaid.  "  Her 
obstinacy  is  unquestionably  owing  to  him.  He  has  ex 
acted  some  vow,  doubtless,  that  she  feels  bound  to 
keep." 

"  Think  you  that  she  would  yield  to  her  father's 
entreaties,  if  he  could  be  compelled  to  make  them'?" 
asked  Mohammed. 

The  kaid  shook  his  head.  Not  that  he  would  have 
tlisliked  to  see  the  Mont-Roy  subjected  to  torture  for 
the  purpose  of  forcing  him  to  solicit  his  daughter's  per 
version  to  Islamism,  but  he  had  a  deeper  scheme  of 
revenge. 

'  It  would  be  useless,"  he  replied,  "  to  attempt  it. 
"  She  might  not  yield  even  to  her  father ;  and  as  for 
him,  he  never  could  be  brought  to  ask  her.  I  know 
him  well.  Against  his  firmness  in  such  a  cause,  all 
our  resources  of  fire,  and  rack,  and  wild  horses,  would 


248 


ROMANCE     DUST 


be  in  vain.  But  there  is  a  plan,"  continued  the  kaid, 
after  a  pause,  and  glancing  furtively  at  the  countenance 
of  his  master,  "which  may  succeed  with  her— that  is, 
if  it  meets  my  lord's  approval." 

"  Out  with  it !"  impatiently  exclaimed  Mohammed, 
finding  that  Boufra  hesitated.  "I  will  do  anything  but 
kill  her." 

"  I  would  not  kill  her,"  replied  the  kaid.  "  I  would 
only  threaten  her." 

"With  death?  Go  to;  my  threats  would  be  but 
idle  breath,"  exclaimed  the  prince. 

"With  something  far  worse  than  death,"  returned 
the  kaid,  with  a  cunning  leer. 

"  Speak  !  What  devil's  scheme  is  it,  that  you  stand 
thus  waiting  for  me  to  drag  it  from  you1?" 

"  Threaten  her  with  my  corps  of  renegadoes." 
"  Ha !      What   mean   you  ?"    demanded   the   prince, 
compressing  his  lips,  and  knitting  his  brows. 

"  Give  her  the  choice  of  abandoning  her  faith,"  re 
plied  the  kaid,  "or  of  becoming  the  slave. of  my  re 
negades.  Tell  her  that  nothing  but  a  profession  of  Is- 
lamism  shall  save  her  from  the  brutal  passions  of  the 
vilest  set  of  vagabonds  that  walk  the  face  of  the  earth." 
"Villain!"  shouted  the  shereef,  seizing  the  kaid  by 
the  throat,  and  holding  him  for  a  moment  to  the  wall. 
"  But  why  should  your  scheme  enrage  me  1  By  Al 
lah !  I  will  try  it." 


INEZ     DE     MEN  CIA     MONT-ROY.  249 

Mohammed  relaxed  his  grasp,  and  the  kaid,  who 
had  made  no  resistance,  gathered  the  displaced  folds 
of  his  haick  around  him  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  I  will  try  it,"   muttered  the   shereef. 

"  And  if  she  still  proves   obstinate  I"  said   the  kaid. 

"  Then,  by  the  glory  of  the  only  true  God !"  re 
turned  Mohammed,  setting  his  teeth  firmly,  and  draw 
ing  his  breath  with  an  effort,  "  I  will  leave  her  to  her 
fate.  I  will  give  her  up,  not  to  your  renegades,  as 
you  propose,  but  to  my  negro  guards.  I  will  abandon 
her  to  their  lusts;  she  shall  be  their  slave — their  ser 
vant — the  plaything  of  their  brutal  humors.  The  com 
monest  follower  of  the  camp  shall  be  a  queen  to  her. 
Her  companions  shall  be  of  the  vilest.  She  shall  wal 
low  like  the  swine  she  adores,  in  filth  and  sin,  till  body 
and  soul  are  alike  polluted." 

The  prince  continued  in  a  loud  voice,  while,  with 
the  foam  gathering  about  his  mouth,  and  waving  his 
arms  furiously,  he  lashed  himself  into  a  storm  of  rage. 
"  Methinks  I  could  see  her  thus  with  ecstatic  pleasure. 
It  would  do  my  heart  good.  My  heart  1  By  Allah ! 
1  have  no  heart.  It  is  gone — destroyed — burned  up — 
wasted  to  ashes !  Cursed  Christian  sorceress !  how  I 
hate  her.  Oh !  Prophet  of  God,  thou  knowest  how  I 
hate  her !  Thou  knowest  how  I  will  revel  in  her  de 
gradation.  We  will  see  how  her  false  creed  will  sup- 

11* 


250  ROMANCE      DUST. 

port  her.  Sooner  or  later  she  will  be  forced  to  recant. 
And  then,  alas  !  it  will  be  too  late  to  restore  her." 

The  tone  of  the  shereef  fell,  and  he  checked  his  im 
petuous  stride.  "  And  yet  she  loves  me,"  he  mut 
tered ;  and  I 1 by  Allah!  I  will  hate  her!" 

Turning  fiercely  upon  the  kaid,  who  had  stood  a 
quiet  spectator  of  his  excited  movements,  Mohammed 
directed  him  to  go  and  order  his  guards  to  be  ready 
in  the  morning  for  a  march.  The  kaid  bowing  obse 
quiously,  hastened  to  obey,  leaving  the  shereef  to  the 
miserable  and  irritating  companionship  of  his  dark 
thoughts  and  fierce  passions. 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  251 


CHAPTER   VII. 


A  SLEEPLESS  night  for  Inez  had  passed  drearily  away, 
but  the  morning  brought  no  relief.  The  rising  sun 
lighted  none  of  the  darkness  of  her  heart;  the  morning 
zephyr  bore  no  healing  on  its  wings  for  her  fevered 
brow — her  oppressed  and  throbbing  brain. 

A  female  slave  entered  the  room,  and  announced 
to  her  that  she  must  prepare  herself  for  a  journey 
without  delay.  Mechanically,  and  without  a  question, 
Inez  rose  from  her  couch,  and  putting  on  a  few  articles 
of  dress  which  the  slave  had  brought,  stood  waiting,  when 
Mohammed  appeared.  He  spoke  not  a  word,  but  taking 
her  hand,  led  her  down  the  staircase  into  the  front 
court  of  the  castle,  where  stood  a  number  of  negro 
slaves  with  a  curtained  litter.  The  shereef  placed  her 
in  it,-  and  let  down  the  curtains.  As  he  did  so,  Inez 
murmured  an  inquiry  for  her  father;  but  drawing  his 
head  still  further  within  the  deep  hood  of  his  jellib,  he 
turned  away  without  reply,  and  motioned  to  the  bear 
ers  to  lift  their  burden. 


252  ROMANCE     DUST. 

Mohammed  mounted  his  horse,  and  followed  the 
litter.  Without  the  gates  his  body  guard  of  negroes 
were  drawn  up  in  waiting.  As  he  appeared  their  horses 
were  put  in  motion :  loud  shouts  of  "  Health  and  long 
life  to  our  lord  the  shereef"  rent  the  air;  muskets  were 
fired  and  twirled  on  high,  and  arrows  discharged  in  the 
air.  Contrary  to  his  usual  habits,  the  prince  took  no 
notice  of  these  demonstrations  of  loyalty  and  honor. 
Moodily  lie  rode  onward,  leaving  the  tumultuous  move 
ments  to  subside  into  the  regular  paces  of  the  march. 
More  than  once  some  of  his  favorite  kaids  made  an 
effort  to  attract  his  attention ;  but  there  was  something 
in  his  air  that  repelled  them.  The  boldest  drew  back 
in  affright,  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  from  within  the 
shadow  of  his  hood  of  his  sunken  eye  and  hollow  cheek. 
Whispers  of  magic  and  sorcery  of  Obih  and  the  fetish 
began  to  circulate  among  the  superstitious  guards;  and 
sinister  looks  were  frequently  cast  towards  the  litter, 
which,  in  as  much  as  it  was  known  to  contain  a  Chris 
tian  damsel,  might  well  be  supposed  to  be  full  of  all 
evil  and  diabolical  influences. 

The  country  through  which  they  passed  was  at  first 
wild  and  rocky,  but  gradually  it  grew  more  level '  and 
more  thickly  clothed  with  trees.  About  noon  the  ca 
valcade  halted  for  an  hour  for  refreshments,  at  the  en 
trance  to  a  grove  of  argali  and  olive  trees.  The  curtains 
of  the  litter  were  drawn  aside,  and  the  same  slave  who 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT -ROY.  253 

attended  Inez  in  the  morning  presented  her  an  earthen 
vessel  of  milk  and  water.  The  draught  revived  her, 
and  she  raised  herself  and  looked  out  upon  the  sur 
rounding  scene.  There  was  not  much  to  interest  her, 
save  a  solitary  figure  in  a  green  turban,  sitting,  appa 
rently  absorbed  in  meditation,  at  the 'foot  of  a  distant 
olive.  Groups  of  coarse-featured  black  soldiers  were 
lying  about  under  the  trees.  Inez  was  glad  to  avert 
her  eyes  from  their  ferocious  glances. 

The  march  was  resumed  ;  and  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day  the  road  lay  through  a  most  picturesque  forest 
of  olive  trees.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  domes  and 
minarets  of  Tarudant  came  in  sight,  and  just  at  sunset 
they  reached  the  gates  of  that  city ;  but  instead  of  en 
tering,  the  cavalcade  turned  along  the  walls,  and  pro 
ceeded  on  to  a  villa  named  Dar  el  Bey  da,  the  residence 
of  the  prince. 

This  villa  consisted  of  extensive  ranges  of  low  build 
ings,  surrounded  by  gardens,  and  enclosing  within  their 
circuit  numerous  paved  courts  and  quadrangles.  Op 
posite  the  front  of  the  principal  building  were  a  num 
ber  of  gloomy  looking  houses — the  barracks  of  the 
negroes  composing  the  shereef 's  personal  guard. 

The  litter  in  which  Inez  was  seated  was  carried  into 
a  small  court,  surrounded  by  four  narrow,  but  lofty 
rooms.  The  curtains  were  opened  by  the  slave  in  at 
tendance,  and  Inez  stepping  out,  was  conducted  into 


254  ROMANCE      DUST. 

one  of  the  rooms.  A  carpet,  two  or  three  cushions, 
and  a  copper  lamp  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  composed 
all  the  furniture.  The  slave  retired ;  the  door  closed 
behind  her,  and  Inez  was  left  alone  in  the  gloomy 
apartment.  Faint  and  stupified  with  grief,  and  almost 
paralyzed  with  terror,  she  sank  to  her  knees,  and  bow 
ing  her  head  upon  the  cushion,  implored  the  aid  and 
comfort  of  the  Virgin  Mother  and  her  Son,  with  a  fer 
vor  and  intensity  of  feeling  born  of  her  great  faith  and 
her  great  fear. 

The  slave  who  attended  upon  her  entered  with  re 
freshments,  and  placing  them  upon  a  small  table,  sig 
nified  that  she  awaited  Inez's  commands.  But  Inez  had 
no  commands  to  give.  She  simply  indicated  a  wish 
to  retire  to  her  couch;  whereupon  the  slave  drew  up 
a  curtain  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  disclosed  a  door 
leading  to  a  small  raised  recess,  on  the  floor  of  which 
was  spread,  according  to  Moorish  custom,  a  thick  mat- 
trass  of  wool. 

The  next  day  the  poor  girl  passed  in  solitude;  a 
prey  to  the  most  terrible  anxiety,  doubt — even  des 
pair.  Still,  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  there  was  a 
faint,  very  faint,  sentiment  of  confidence  in  the  love 
of  the  shereef — a  single  drop  of  hope.  She  did  not  ad 
mit  its  existence  to  herself;  but  without  it  she  could 
not  have  borne  up  under  her  trials  for  an  hour.  "But 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  255 

even  this,  faint  and  feeble  as  it  was,  was  destined  to 
be  roughly  driven  from  her  heart. 

The  sun  had  passed  the  meridian  some  two  or  three 
hours,  when  the  tall  figure  of  Mohammed,  his  face  close 
ly  enveloped  in  his  haick,  darkened  the  door-way.  He 
paused  for  a  moment  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  Inez,  and 
clutched  at  the  sides  of  the  door  as  if  for  support ; 
but  he  recovered  himself  in  a  moment,  and  with  a  stea 
dy  step  advanced  towards  her. 

"  Inez,"  he  said,  in  a  broken,  husky  tone,  "  I  wish 
you  to  accompany  me."  And  taking  her  hand,  he  led 
her  unresistingly  into  the  court,  and  thence  up  a  nar 
row  stairway  into  a  small  turret  opening  on  to  the  flat 
roof.  The  turret  stood  in  one  angle  of  the  parapet, 
and  on  one  side  had  a  window  that  looked  out  upon 
a  wide  open  space  in  front  of  a  range  of  barracks. 
The  ground  was  rough  and  unpaved;  a  few  thatched 
hovels,  something  like  large  bee-hives,  were  scattered 
around  ;  a  dozen  aged  olive  trees  threw  their  thin  sha 
dows  upon  piles  of  dirt  and  rubbish,  and  upon  groups 
of  half  naked  negroes.  A  few  women — ugly,  filthy 
hags — each  habited  in  a  scanty  rag  of  clothing,  but 
tricked  off  with  bracelets  and  anklets  of  silver,  were 
lolling  about,  quarreling  with  each  other,  and  bandy 
ing  vulgar  witicisms  and  disgusting  slang  with  the  men. 
The  scene  was  one  of  unqualified  coarseness,  obscenity, 
and  brutality. 


256  ROMANCE     DUST. 

In  obedience  to  the  gestures  of  the  shereef,  Inez 
placed  herself  at  the  window  and  looked  out.  It  was 
all  a  blank  to  her;  she  saw  nothing  in  what  was  be 
fore  her  to  interest  her — she  knew  not,  cared  not  what 
it  meant.  Her  apprehension  was,  however,  speedily 
quickened  by  the  words  of  Mohammed. 

"  I  have  brought  you  here,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that 
sounded  like  an  echo  from  the  infernal  regions,  "that 
you  may  form  a  faint  idea  of  the  fate  that,  perhaps, 
awaits  you.  Choose,  Inez,  between  the  Prophet  and 
me,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Christ  and  yonder  brutes, 
on  the  other.  Choose  !" 

Inez  turned  a  terrified,  but  bewildered  mid  inquir 
ing  look  upon  the  prince;  she  could  see  nothing  but 
his  eyes  glaring  with  a  wild  lurid  lustre  far  within 
their  orbits.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  awaken  to  a 
sense  of  the  full  enormity  of  his  proposition.  She 
started,  and  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart  with  a  look 
of  mortal  terror,  and  then  a  wild  gleam  of  devotional 
feeling  lighted  up  her  countenance. 

"  Choose  !"  exclaimed  Mohammed.  "  Will  you  be 
queen  of  'Morocco,  or  shall  I  abandon  you  to  the  com 
panionship  of  that  ruffian  crew  1" 

"  Holy  Mother  of  God !"  murmured  Inez,  "  aid  me 
in  this  my  extremity  of  peril,  and  enable  me  to  en 
dure  all  things,  unto  the  end,  for  thy  Son  !" 

A  deep  groan  burst  from  the  breast  of  the  shereef. 


INEZ     D  E     MENCIA     MO  NT -ROY.  257 

He  struck  his  brow  fiercely  with  his  clenched  hand,  and 
reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  turned  and  descended  the 
stairs.  Outside  of  the  house,  he  recovered  his  com 
posure  with  an  effort  ;  and  calling  to  a  kaid  of  his 
black  troops,  gave  him  some  order  in  a  low  but  firm 
voice. 

For  an  hour  and  more  Inez  remained  in  undisturbed 
communion  with  heaven — a  holy  ecstacy  elevated  her 
mind  above  all  earthly  thoughts.  She  felt  herself  lifted 
as  on  the  wings  of  light,  and  carried  upward,  while 
hosts  of  angels  and  saints  descended  to  greet  her,  and 
to  hover  around  her  with  encouraging  whispers  and  joy 
ful  songs.  The  portals  of  heaven  seemed  to  open  be 
fore  her,  and  through  their  golden  arches  she  looked 
into  a  realm  of  ineffable  splendor,  and  saw — oh !  bless 
ed  sight  ! — the  glorified  image  of  her  crucified  Re 
deemer. 

Rudely  was  she  brought  back  to  earth  by  a  rough 
grasp  upon  her  person.  A  brawny  black  stood  by  her 
side.  Without  a  word  he  stooped,  and  taking  her  in 
his  arms  as  if  she  had  been  a  child,  carried  her  down 
into  the  court,  where  were  assembled  a  dozen  of  his 
comrades.  Upon  placing  her  on  her  feet,  Inez  was  un 
able  to  stand — her  limbs  gave  way,  and  she  sank  to 
the  pavement.  The  soldiers  gathered  around  her  with 
various  expressions  of  curiosity,  admiration,  and  disgust. 
They  lifted  her  up,  and  peered  into  her  face  with 


258  ROMANCE     DUST. 

piercing  and  malignant  glances.  The  soldier,  however, 
who  had  brought  her  into  the  court,  and  who  was  ad 
dressed  by  the  title  of  kaid,  seemed  to  exert  a  restrain 
ing  influence.  In  a  few  minutes  he  again  raised  her  in 
his  arms,  and  followed  by  his  comrades,  left  the  house, 
and,  passing  through  a  narrow  lane,  entered  the  open 
space  in  front  of  the  barracks.  He  deposited  his  al 
most  insensible  burden  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the 
olives,  around  which  soon  gathered  the  whole  of  the 
encampment.  No  one  of  the  soldiers  ventured  to  lay 
hands  upon  her  person;  and  luckily  for  her  ears,  most 
of  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  the  negro  dialects 
of  the  Soudan.  Despite,  however,  the  resistance  of  the 
kaid,  the  women  of  the  encampment  pressed  upon  her, 
and  with  coarse  words,  and  coarser  gestures,  vented 
their  hatred  and  contempt  for  a  Christian. 

Happy  it  was  for  Inez  that  terror  exerted  a  stu- 
pifying  effect  upon  her  mind.  Her  spirit  cowered  into 
depths  almost  beyond  the  reach  of  sensation.  She  saw 
the  grinning  faces  and  uncouth  figures,  and  heard  the 
brutal  laugh  and  tumultuous  shouts  ;  but  she  hardly 
heeded  them.  With  convulvsive  grasp  she  clutched  the 
cross  in  her  bosom.  To  tear  that  symbol  of  her  sal 
vation  from  her  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  only  object  of 
the  noisy  crowd — to  preserve  it,  her  only  hope  of  safety. 

The  language  and  actions  of  the  camp  women  grow 
ing  more  and  more  violent,  the  kaid  again  raised  her 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT- ROY.  259 

in  his  arms,  and  bore  her  into  an  empty  room  in  a 
small  detached  building.  Two  or  three  narrow  port 
holes  over  the  door  admitted  light  enough  to  show  the 
unplastered  walls  and  unpaved  floor.  The  kaid  depo 
sited  her  upon  the  ground,  and  retiring,  locked  the  door. 
The  silence,  the  darkness,  the  coolness  of  the  damp 
earth — all  were  a  relief  to  her  excited  brain  and  ex 
hausted  body.  She  pressed  her  head  to  the  ground, 
and  muttered  an  incoherent  prayer  for  a  refuge  in  the 
grave.  Several  times  noises  by  the  door  aroused  her, 
when  she  would  start  and  listen,  grasping  her  cross, 
and  with  difficulty  repressing  a  scream  for  aid  to  pre 
serve  it.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  every  moment  her 
enemies  were  about  to  burst  into  the  room,  and  wrest 
it  from  her. 


260 


ROMANCE     DUST. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 


THE  shadows  of  the  evening  were  beginning  to 
stream  athwart  the  ground,  when  a  tall  figure  sudden- 
ly  entered  with  hurried  step  the  quarters  of  the  negro 
guard.  He  was  habited  in  white  of  the  finest  fabric, 
save  that  his  head  was  covered  with  a  turban  of  green 
silk.  The  lounging  soldiers  started  at  sight  of  this 
distinctive  mark  of  the  shereef.  Who  could  he  be  who 
had  had  the  audacity  to  assume  the  holy  color  of  the 
descendant  of  the  Prophet?  It  took  a  second  look  to 
discover  in  the  ghastly,  fearfully  worn  face  of  the  wear 
er,  the  bold  and  handsome  features  of  the  shereef  himself. 

Mohammed  summoned  the  kaid  of  the  negroes. 

"Where  is  she1?"  he  demanded  with  an  ill-assumed 
steadiness  of  tone. 

The  kaid  pointed  to  the  house. 

"And  how  bore  she  your  visit?" 

"As  a  lamb  the  visit  of  a  vulture — she  cowered  to 
the  ground  without  motion,  almost  without  sense." 


INEZ     DE     MEN  CIA     MONT-ROY.  261 

Mohammed  wrung  his  hand  in  agony;  but  the  next 
instant  he  grasped  the  shoulder  of  the  kaid  with  a 
force  that  made  the  black  writhe  with  pain. 

"  You  suffered,"  he  demanded,  "  no  hand  to  wan 
tonly  pollute  her  person  ?  Ha !  kaid,  no  arm  to  touch 
her  but  your  own  ?" 

"  The  commands  of  my  lord  were  obeyed  to  the 
letter,"  replied  the  kaid.  "When  I  found  our  women 
pressing  upon  her  too  roughly,  I  removed  her  to  yon 
der  building,  and  locked  her  up  in  safety." 

"  Give  me  the  key,"  said  the  prince  ;  "  and  see 
that  your  men  draw  the  veil  of  prudence  between  my 
movements  and  their  curiosity." 

The  kaid  produced  the  key  from  his  girdle. 

"  If  my  lord,"  he  said,  "  will  permit  his  slave  an 
observation " 

"  Speak  !"  exclaimed  Mohammed. 

"Then  I  will  say,"  returned  the  kaid,  "that  if  the 
Christian  is  to  be  made  to  renounce  her  errors,  it  will 
be  necessary  to  take  prompt  measures,  or  she  will  be 
beyond  all  human  power." 

"  Ha  !      What   mean   you  ?"   demanded   the   prince. 

"That  Azrael  is  waiting  for  her;  she  does  not  seem 
to  me  to  be  able  to  resist  his  call  many  days  longer." 

Mohammed  staggered  backwards  ;  but  in  an  in 
stant  he  had  recovered  himself,  and  an  imperious  ges 
ture  waved  off  the  kaid,  who  had  advanced  to  his  sup- 


262  ROMANCE     DUST. 

port.  With  hurried  yet  hesitating  steps  he  moved 
towards  the  building  where  Inez  was  confined.  He 
stood  before  the  door  without  daring  to  enter.  He 
was  afraid  to  do  so — he  was  fearful  lest  he  should 
find  the  predictions  of  the  kaid  already  verified.  Inez, 
dead !  And  now,  when  he  had  conquered  himself — his 
pride — his  prejudices — his  ambition  for  her — when  he 
had  resolved  to  give  up  everything  for  her.  Dead ! 
And  yet  he  felt  that  it  was  a  just  retribution — a  fitting 
punishment  of  his  crimes;  for  if  dead,  he  alone  had 
killed  her  ! 

He  applied  the  key  to  the  lock,  and  opened  the 
door.  The  level  sunlight  streaming  in  the  room  ex 
hibited  the  form  of  Inez  crouching  in  one  corner.  Her 
hands  were  clasped  tightly  over  her  bosom ;  her  lips 
moved,  as  if  in  prayer.  As  Mohammed  advanced  to 
wards  her  she  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  and  crouched 
closer  down  into  the  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Fear  not,  Inez,"  exclaimed  the  shereef,  flinging 
himself  on  his  knees  beside  her. 

"  Away  !  away !"  shrieked  Inez.  "  Leave  me  !  You 
shall  not  have  it.  No  !  you  may  kill  me,  but  you 
shall  not  have  it!"  And  she  clutched  the  cross  des 
perately,  while  turning  and  shrinking  from  his  extend 
ed  arm. 

"  Inez,  dear  Inez  !"  passionately  returned  Moham 
med,  "listen  to  me." 


INEZ     DE      MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  263 

"  No  !  no  !  no  !"  exclaimed  Inez.  "  I  will  not  listen 
to  you.  You  shall  not  have  it — I  will  die  for  it,  as 
Christ  died  on  it.  Go  !  you  shall  not  have  it.  I  will 
not  listen  to  you." 

"  Calm   yourself,  Inez,"  continued  the  prince. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  calm,"  interrupted  Inez.  "  So  calm — 
feel  how  slowly  my  pulses  beat.  But  no — you  will 
take  it  from  me  if  you  come  near  me.  You  shall  not 
have  it.  Kill  me,  if  you  will,  but  you  shall  not  have  it." 

"  Listen  to  me,  Inez,"  implored  Mohammed ;  "  listen 
one  moment.  I  want  nothing  from  you  but  pardon 
and  forgiveness.  Keep  your  faith — keep  your  cross. 
I  give  up  all  to  you." 

The  words  and  impassioned  and  imploring  tones  of 
the  Prince  seemed  to  have  a  soothing  influence  upon 
the  young  girl.  She  suffered  him  to  take  her  hand. 

"  Keep  my  cross  !"  she  murmured.  "  Ah  !  that  will 
be  something  pleasant  to  tell  my  father.  My  father? 
Ha !  I  recollect — I  have  no  father.  You  know,  senor : 
tell  me,  did  they  not  murder  him  1  Yes,  yes — 'twas 
you  who  murdered  him  !" 

"Believe  me,  Inez,"  exclaimed  Mohammed,  "your 
father  is  safe — is  well.  You  shall  see  him  again.  I 
deceived  you,  Inez.  Can  you  pardon  me1?  Can  you 
ever  forgive  me  for  what  I  have  made  you  suffer  1 
Look  at  me,  Inez — not  thus.  Oh,  God  !  I  have  driven 
her  mad  !  Not  thus,  Inez.  Wake  up,  and  look  at  me 


264  ROMANCE      DUST. 

as  you  were  wont.  Look  at  this  eye,  and  cheek,  and 
hand.  See  what  a  thing  of  scorn — a  shadow  of  a  man 
— a  few  short  days  have  made  me.  Ah!  Inez,  you 
know  not  what  I  have  suffered." 

"  Poor  Mohammed  !"  whispered  the  young  girl. 
"  He,  too,  has  suffered :  I  knew  it.  I  suffered,  and  I 
knew  he  must  suffer.  Every  one  must  suffer.  Christ 
suffered  most  of  all.  Poor  Mohammed !" 

The  shereef  drew  her  towards  him,  and  folded  her 
in  his  arms. 

"  You  shall  suffer  no  more,  dearest  Inez.  Never  ! 
never !  I  swear  it !  Never  more  shall  you  have  cause 
for  fear  or  grief.  But  you  must  arouse  yourself,  Inez : 
your  father  will  soon  arrive.  Come,  be  yourself  once 
more.  There  are  many  happy  days  before  you." 

"  I  am  happy  now,"  murmured  the  young  girl ; 
"but  I  am  cold — very  cold." 

The  shereef  bent  over  her  with  intense  anxiety.  He 
felt  the  shivering  of  her  slight  form;  and  hastily  wrap 
ping  her  in  his  haick,  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and 
bore  her  from  the  damp  room  into  the  open  air. 
Without  pausing  he  crossed  the  square,  and  turning 
along  a  narrow  winding  passage,  entered  the  court  of 
the  vacant  house  that  Inez  had  at  first  occupied.  Depo 
siting  his  now  insensible  burden  upon  the  couch,  he 
hastened  to  summon  attendants.  In  a  few  moments 
slaves  entered  with  lights ;  several  females  also  came, 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  265 

by  whom  Inez  was  speedily  inducted  into?'her  couch. 
The  kaid  of  the  couriers  was  summoned,  and  a  mes 
sage  despatched  to  Agadeer,  commanding  the  imme 
diate  presence  of  Mont-Roy. 

All  night  the  shereef  sat  by  her  bedside,  listening 
with  a  throbbing  heart  to  the  mutterings  of  delirium, 
or  paced  the  open  court,  a  prey  to  the  most  terrible 
anxiety.  The  sacrifices  which  love  had  at  last  exacted 
of  his  pride,  and  prejudices,  and  interest,  seemed  light 
in  comparison  with  the  loss  that  now  threatened  him. 
Should  she  live,  he  cared  not  if  he  should  be  compelled 
to  resign  all  honor  and  power  to  his  brother,  and  re 
tire  to  private  life  in  the  recesses  of  the  Atlas,  or  the 
solitudes  of  the  Desert. 

At  noon  the  next  day  Mont-Roy  arrived,  to  find 
his  daughter  in  the  crisis  of  a  brain  fever.  Luckily, 
the  old  knight  had  picked  up  a  good  deal  of  medical 
experience  in  the  course  of  his  campaigning.  He  knew 
that  youth  and  a  good  constitution  are  the  best  of 
medicines,  and  that  in  most  curable  cases  the  patient 
needs  no  physician.  Inez  being  thus  rescued  from  the 
nostrums  of  the  female  quack  solvers  attending  her,  na 
ture  had  fair  play  ;  and  on  the  third  day  her  delirium 
subsided,  and  all  danger  was  passed. 

Inez  awoke  to  life  and  happiness.  She  had  remained 
constant  to  the  end ;  and  great  was  her  reward.  Her 
faith  was  triumphant,  her  father  was  restored  to  her, 

12 


266  ROMANCE     DUST. 

and  from  a  cruel  master  and  tyrant,  Mohammed  had 
become  the  most  submissive,  as  well  as  the  most  lov 
ing,  of  slaves.  Her  recovery  was  rapid  ;  and  a  few 
short  weeks  saw  the  bloom  of  health  once  more  on 
her  cheek,  and  the  light  of  youth  and  hope  in  her  eye. 


INEZ     DE     MENCIA     MONT-ROY.  267 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


WERE  our  story  one  of  pure  invention,  we  ought, 
by  all  the  rules  of  art,  to  have  concluded  it  with  the 
last  chapter,  leaving  the  further  fate  of  our  heroine  to 
the  imagination  of  the  reader.  But,  inasmuch  as  Inez 
is  no  creation  of  the  fancy,  but  a  veritable  historical 
personage — one  who  suffered  and  endured  as  we  have 
described — a  being  once  of  flesh  and  life,  as  well  as 
of  youth  and  loveliness,  and  now,  if  there  is  any  merit 
in  piety,  and  faith,  and  fortitude,  a  saint  in  heaven — the 
reader  may  be  curious  to  know  something  more  of  her 
life.  For  this  a  few  words  will  suffice. 

As  soon  as  Inez  had  recovered  from  her  illness,  she 
was  married  to  the  shereef;  the  haughty  and  bigoted 
Moor  submitting  to  have  the  ceremony  performed  by 
a  Catholic  priest  from  the  Portuguese  garrison  of  Maza- 
gan.  The  marriage,  of  course,  created  a  great  excite 
ment  throughout  the  province.  It  was  loudly  repro 
bated  by  all  the  santons  and  talbs,  and  learned  and 


268  ROMANCE     DUST. 

pious  expounders  of  the  law.  That  a  descendant  of 
the  Prophet  should  condescend  to  hold  the  commerce 
of  love  with  a  Christian,  was  an  event  that,  luckily, 
they  did  not  know  how  to  deal  with.  It  was  an  enor 
mity  of  sacrilege  beyond  their  comprehension  to  grasp. 

Secure  in  this  want  of  energy  and  combination  among 
those  who  most  loudly  denounced  him,  and  still  more  se 
cure  in  the  resources  of  his  own  fertile  brain  and  iron 
will.  Mohammed  soon  learned  to  despise  the  murmurs 
of  his  subjects,  and  the  threats  of  his  brother,  who  was 
governor  of  the  distant  city  of  Morocco.  There  was 
one  danger,  however,  to  which  Mohammed  grew  each 
day  more  and  more  keenly  alive — and  that  danger 
threatened  the  life  of  Inez.  He  knew  that  her  enemies 
were  busy  with  their  machinations,  and  that  no  effort 
would  be  left  untried  to  destroy  her.  Almost  daily  his  vi 
gilance  frustrated  some  scheme — emptied  some  poison 
ed  bowl,  turned  aside  some  dagger.  So  long  as  it 
would  be  doing  God  service  to  take  her  life,  there  could 
not  be  wanting  fanatics  ready  to  brave  any  punishment 
in  the  attempt. 

This  necessity  for  constant  watchfulness  kept  Mo 
hammed's  love  at  fever  heat,  and  his  passion  was  fully 
returned.  True,  Inez  felt  that  there  was  a  barrier  be 
tween  them  in  the  matter  of  religion ;  but  she  was  not 
without  hope  that  it  might  one  day  be  removed.  Mo 
hammed  listened  so  quietly  when  she  alluded  some- 


INEZ      DE      MENCIA     MONT -ROY.  269 

times  to  the  claims  of  Christianity  to  belief,  that  she 
could  not  but  indulge  such  a  hope.  And  this  hope 
grew  in  strength  with  her  hope  of  becoming  a  mother, 
and  with  the  increasing  tenderness  and  care  of  Mo 
hammed.  Alas !  her  hopes  in  each  and  every  par 
ticular  were  destined  to  be  blighted. 

She  was  walking  one  day  with  Mohammed,  in  a 
secluded  garden  of  the  villa  Da  el  Beyda.  Their  path 
lay  through  an  arbor  of  vines.  The  large  purple  clus 
ters  hung  around  in  tempting  profusion.  Inez  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  pluck  one,  but  was  interrupted  by 
Mohammed. 

"Hold,"  he  said;  "here  is  one  far  larger  and  finer." 
And  reaching  up,  he  pulled  a  bunch  that  hung  over 
head,  and  presented  it  to  her. 

Inez  had  nearly  finished  eating  the  bunch,  when  Mo 
hammed  carelessly  stretched  out  his  hand  and  picked  a 
grape  from  the  stem.  He  put  the  fruit  to  his  mouth,  and 
instantly  started  with  surprise  at  the  unnatural  sweetness 
of  the  skin.  He  dashed  the  remnant  of  the  bunch  from 
the  hand  of  Inez;  but  it  was  too  late.  She  had  swal 
lowed  a  mortal  dose  of  the  swift  and  subtle  poison  with 
which  all  the  largest  and  ripest  bunches  of  the  arbor 
had  been  covered.  The  perseverance  and  ingenuity  of 
her  enemies  had  been  finally  crowned  with  success  ; 
and  before  an  hour  had  passed  the  stricken  shereef  held 
to  his  breast  a  corpse. 


270  ROMANCE      DUST. 

It  was  as  well,  perhaps,  for  her  thus  to  die,  before 
the  question  of  religion  had  been  again  brought  up  by 
the  birth  of  her  child — before  her  pious  heart  was  rent 
at  the  sight  of  her  offspring  yielding  to  the  influence 
of  the  circumstances  surrounding  him,  and  becoming  a 
scoffer  and  reviler  of  the  religion  of  Christ. 

The  shereef,  of  course,  took  her  loss  very  much  to 
heart;  but  his  grief  did  not  prevent  him  from  defeat 
ing  his  brother  at  the  battle  of  Quehera,  and  banishing 
him  first  to  Taffalet,  and  afterwards  to  the  Desert  ;  or 
deposing  the  king  of  Fez,  and  driving  him  into  retire 
ment,  or,  a  little  later  in  life,  from  adding  every  year 
a  new  wife  to  his  hareem;  or  asserting  in  many  other 
ways  his  claim  to  be  considered — not,  perhaps,  a  very 
perfect  hero  of  romance,  but  very  much  of  a  man.  He 
lived  to  a  great  age,  and  was  assassinated  one  day 
at  the  door  of  his  tent,  while  on  a  journey  from  Fez 
to  Tarudant.  His  descendant,  Muley  Abderrhaman,  now 
occupies  the  throne  of  Morocco. 


APPENDIX. 


Don  Juan  de  Vega,  vice-roy  of  Sicily,  having  repaired  the  ruins  of 
Mahede,  and  put  things  in  the  best  order,  committed  the  government 
thereof  to  his  son  Don  Alvaro,  with  six  companies  of  Spanish  infantry, 
and  good  store  of  artillery,  and  all  necessaries. — Don  Alvaro  de  Vega 
continued  there  peaceably  enough,  taking  great  care  of  its  fortifica 
tions  till  the  end  of  July,  1551,  when  the  emperor  sent  in  his  stead 
Don  Sancho  de  Leyva.  The  new  governor  employed  his  troops  in 
making  frequent  incursions  among  the  natives  of  that  neighborhood, 
and  brought  in  many  rich  prizes  of  slaves  and  cattle.  But  the  Spanish 
soldiers,  not  having  received  their  pay  for  several  months  past, 
(though  the  governor  had  advanced  them  subsistence-money  out  of 
his  own  purse,  and  allowed  them  a  share  of  his  booty,)  began  to 
mutiny.  They  would  not  be  persuaded  but  that  Don  Sancho  retained 
their  money,  \v-hich,  they  insisted,  had  been  always  duly  remitted.  The 
mutiny  soon  came  to  that  pass  that  the  officers  in  general,  even  the 
Serjeants,  were  expelled  the  city ;  and  Don  Sancho  himself  happily 
saved  his  life  by  getting  on  board  a  ship  there  at  anchor.  In  vain  he 
approached  the  walls  with  the  vessel,  calling  out,  entreating  and  protest 
ing  his  innocence.  In  vain  he  offered  to  sell  his  goods  and  estate  to 
satisfy  that  headless  monster.  Nothing  reigned  among  them  but  obsti 
nacy  and  sedition.  Don  Sancho,  weary  of  his  fruitless  endeavors, 
departed  for  Sicily  with  his  fellow-sufferers.  Don  Juan  de  Vega,  the 
vice-roy,  fancied  he  could  bring  them  to  reason,  but  he  soon  found  him 
self  deceived.  He  then  swore  to  starve  them  ;  since  they  should  have 
no  more  provisions  from  thence  or  any  other  part.  This  made  them  more 
outrageous.  They  had  formed  themselves  into  a  sort  of  republic,  under 
the  direction  of  a  stout  soldier,  named  Antonio  de  Aponte,  to  whom 


272  APPENDIX. 

they  gave  the  title  of  electo  mayor,  or  the  chief  elect,  and  other 
subaltern  magistrates.  Don  Sancho  repaired  to  the  emperor  at  Brussels; 
there  to  make  his  complaints :  And,  soon  after,  the  electo  mayor  had 
the  insolence,  likewise,  to  send  an  embassy  to  that  monarch,  by  one  of 
his  own  people,  whose  name  was  Juan  Falcon.  What  this  ambassador 
demanded  was  a  new  governor ;  assuring  Don  Carlos  "  that  the  sol 
diery  would  sooner  suffer  the  crudest  death  than  have  any  dealings 
with  either  Don  Juan  or  Don  Sancho."  The  emperor  read  his  cre 
dentials  ;  but  returned  no  answer  for  the  present ;  as  depending  on  the 
vice-roy,  who  had  undertaken  to  accommodate  that  affair.  At  last 
Don  Juan  wrote  him  word  that  he  could  not  perform  his  promise  ; 
withal  counseling  the  emperor  speedily  to  send  a  proper  mediator,  lest 
the  matter  grew  to  a  bad  consequence.  Meanwhile  the  garrison  re 
solved  not  to  be  starved  ;  and  their  chief  magistrate  actually  governed 
with  exemplary  prudence.  He  armed  and  fitted  out  a  stout  brigantine, 
on  which  he  put  fifty  soldiers.  This  he  sent  to  cruise  on  the  coasts  of 
the  Sicily  ;  and  it  brought  in  several  prizes  with  corn  and  other  provi 
sions:  but  he  let  the  owners  go  without  offering  any  farther  injury. 
He  likewise  wrote  very  submissively  to  the  grand-master  of  Malta, 
to  supply  him  with  necessaries  for  his  money;  which  request  was 
courteously  granted.  Nor  wanted  he  whatever  could  be  spared  him  by 
the  person  who  entitled  himself  king  of  Cairouan,  then  in  alliance  with 
the  Spaniards.  Besides  all  this,  he  made  inroads  into  the  country,  with 
four  or  five  hundred  musketeers,  upon  the  Moors  and  Arabs  who  were 
in  enmity  with  that  prince,  of  whose  persons  and  cattle  he  made  strange 
havoc,  filling  the  town  with  captives  and  their  effects  ;  insomuch  that 
he  became  so  dreaded,  that  many  of  the  neighboring  communities, 
for  their  better  security,  paid  him  contribution,  and  even  glutted  with 
provisions  the  weekly  market  he  kept  without  the  city.  Thus,  there 
was  no  great  appearance  of  reducing  those  revolters  by  famine.  Not 
that  they  could  properly  be  termed  revolters ;  but  on  the  contrary, 
when  the  prior  of  Capua,  who  was  then  general  of  the  French  galleys, 
heard  of  the  extremity  they  were  in  at  first,  he  entered  secretly  into  a 
negociation  with  their  chief,  making  him  mighty  tenders  of  the  French 
king's  favor,  on  condition  he  would  surrender  the  city.  All  the  reply 
he  got  from  Antonio  de  Aponte  was,  "That  the  city  belonged  to  his 


APPENDIX.  273 

imperial  majesty,  and  that  those  who  defended  it  were  Spaniards, 
men  who  would  never  take  a  step  in  his  disservice."  This  prior  was 
Leoni  Strozzi,  brother  to  Pietro  Strozzi,  who,  at  that  juncture,  assist 
ed  by  the  king  of  France,  was  carrying  on  a  war  in  the  Sienncse 
against  the  Florentines  and  other  Italian  powers  of  the  Austrian  faction. 
This  general  had  two  galleys  of  his  own ;  and  was  extremely  desirous 
of  gaining  admittance  into  the  port  of  Africa,  from  thence  to  infest  the 
coasts  of  Sicily.  The  affairs  of  this  city  stood  thus  when  Don  Juan  de 
Vega  wrote  to  the  emperor  the  second  time,  as  above.  The  emperor, 
reflecting  on  the  little  good  Don  Sancho  was  likely  to  do  in  that  bu 
siness,  even  should  he  furnish  him  with  money  to  pay  off  that  mutinous 
garrison,  by  reason  he  was  ill-beloved  there,  gave  him  the  command 
of  the  Neapolitan  galleys.  He  then  sent  for  Don  Hernando  de  Acuna, 
who  was  at  Antwerp,  to  whom  he  recommended  that  affair  ;  sending  him 
immediately  away,  with  strict  orders  to  endeavor  chiefly  to  get  into  the 
city  of  Africa,  and  there  to  chastise  the  insolence  of  those  mutineers 
with  some  exemplary  punishment;  still  conforming  himself  to  necessity, 
and  not  to  proceed  rashly.  Being  apprehensive  lest  those  desperadoes, 
either  for  want,  or  fear  of  chatisernent,  might  run  into  some  still 
greater  disorder :  adding  to  these  orders,  that,  as  soon  as  these  commo 
tions  were  appeased,  he  should  ruin  that  place,  and  retire  with  all  the 
people  and  artillery,  &c.  into  Sicily.  For  as  that  monarch's  hands 
were  then  full  of  many  other  weighty  affairs,  he  thought  it  more 
advisable,  by  utterly  razing  it  to  the  ground,  to  prevent  the  enemy 
from  ever  again  molesting  him  from  thence,  than,  as  matters  then 
stood  with  him,  to  be  at  so  very  considerable  an  expense,  both  of  men 
and  money,  in  maintaining  it ;  both  which  articles  he  had  much  more 
occasion  to  employ  elsewhere.  And  the  better  to  enable  Don  Hernando 
to  execute  these  his  orders  with  the  greater  authority,  he  signed  him 
two  separate  commissions :  one  capacitating  him,  of  his  own  proper 
authority,  to  pardon  all,  or  part  of  those  mutineers,  as  he  saw  conve 
nient  ;  the  other  a  general  amnesty,  in  the  emperor's  own  name:  this 
to  be  made  use  of  in  case  the  other  was  not  sufficient.  Over  and  above 
all  this,  that  monarch  gave  him  letters  to  the  vice-roys  of  Naples  and 
Sicily,  and  to  prince  Andrea  d'Oria,  that  they  should  act  in  conjunc 
tion  with  him,  in  all  he  required,  and  supply  him  with  whatever  he 


274  APPENDIX. 

demanded,  or  wanted.  While  all  these  matters  were  transacting  at 
Brussels,  the  vice-roy  of  Sicily,  ever  attentive  to  this  business,  was 
carrying  on  a  secret  negociation  with  certain  soldiers  of  that  garrison, 
whom  he  bribed  to  start  a  counter-mutiny,  and  to  either  kill  or  secure 
the  ring-leaders  of  that  sedition,  as  likewise  all  such  as  were  most 
averse  to  a  pacification,  and  returning  to  their  obedience.  Of  these  sol 
diers  with  whom  he  treated,  the  chiefs  were  two,  namely,  Vega  and 
Osorio,  to  whom  the  vice-roy  made  mighty  promises  of  favours  and 
rewards.  These,  with  their  partisans,  accomplished  what  there  was 
very  little  prospect  could  otherwise  have  been  effected  without  abun 
dance  of  difficulty.  The  truth  is,  many  of  them  began  to  be  uneasy  at 
their  having  so  long  labored  under  the  ignominy  of  being  reputed 
rebels.  And  upon  this  account,  much  to  the  scandal  of  the  Christian 
name,  amidst  their  enemies,  that  city  was  just  at  the  point  of  being 
stained  with  the  blood  of  its  conquerors  and  defenders ;  had  they  not 
been  restrained  by  a  sort  of  miracle.  Antonio  de  Aponte,  having  taken 
wind  of  what  was  in  agitation,  sent  his  serjeant-major,  astern,  rigid 
soldier,  to  apprehend  the  conspirators ;  whom  he  found  in  a  body,  ready 
armed,  and  determined  to  make  a  bold  resistance:  Their  word  was, 
"  Let  mutiny  be  banished;  and  let  all  traitors  die  !"  While  the  two  par 
ties  were  forming  themselves  in  battle-array,  and  just  upon  falling 
together  by  the  ears,  there  issued  from  the  clouds  so  fiery  a  blast  that 
the  very  fowls  and  birds  flying  in  the  air  tumbled  down  dead  among 
them  ;  insomuch  that  those  intended  combatants,  in  the  utmost  disorder 
and  confusion,  were  forced  to  disband ;  and,  guarding  their  heads  and 
faces  with  their  hands,  to  run  away  to  seek  shelter  from  those  menac 
ing  meteors,  with  whose  scorching  emanations  they  were  surrounded. 
That  same  night  Vega  and  Osorio  took  such  proper  methods,  that, 
killing  the  serjeant-major,  who  was  the  main  support  of  the  mutiny, 
and  securing  all  the  magistrates,  with  their  most  active  and  resolute 
abettors,  the  rest  were  quiet.  Of  this  success  Don  Juan  de  Vega  had 
speedy  notice.  Whereupon  he  dispatched  the  captain  of  his  guards, 
in  a  galley,  with  orders  that  he  should  amuse  the  garrison  with  hopes 
of  their  arrears,  under  pretence  that  he  was  sent  to  make  up  their 
accounts,  in  order  to  pay  them  off.  This  he  artfully  did  ;  and  as 
farther  commanded  by  his  master,  the  vice-roy  of  Sicily,  who  was 


APPENDIX.  275 

resolved  that  so  flagrant  a  crime  should  not  escape  exemplary  punish 
ment,  immediately  sent  away  Antonio  de  Aponte,  and  all  his  most 
distinguished  substitutes,  in  order  to  suffer  death  by  the  hands  of  an 
executioner.  And  for  the  greater  security,  this  officer  was  enjoined 
to  put  into  the  first  port  in  Sicily  he  could  reach,  and  there  to  deliver 
up  those  prisoners  to  the  governor,  who  was  to  answer  for  their  appear 
ance.  The  galley  got  to  Alicata  ;  and  the  governor  secured  them  in  a 
dungeon  of  the  castle,  strongly  fettered.  It  fell  out  that  the  ottoman 
Armada  arrived  there  that  very  evening  ;  and  part  of  the  army  being 
landed,  the  castle  was  attacked  ;  and,  notwithstanding  Antonio  de 
Aponte  and  his  fellow-prisoners,  from  their  dungeon,  earnestly  suppli 
cated  that  they  might^  have  arms  given  them,  to  defend  the  breach, 
their  request  was  denied  :  and  the  castle  being  soon  after  entered  by  the 
Turks,  they  were  made  slaves  with  the  rest.  Not  long  after  Antonio 
de  Aponte  died  of  a  fever  at  Constantinople.  But  Don  Juan  de  Vega 
determined  to  have  some  victims,  sent  for  a  like  number  of  the  most 
culpable  among  those  who  had  not  been  apprehended,  and  caused 
them  all  to  be  hanged  at  Palermo  and  other  cities  of  Sicily.  Thus  ter 
minated  this  affair,  which  had  made  so  much  noise. 

The  emperor  Charles  now  made  an  effort  to  get  rid  of  the  expense 
of  keeping  up  so  heavy  a  garrison  by  transferring  the  town  to  the 
Knights  of  Malta.  But  the  order,  after  due  deliberation,  refused  to  ac 
cept  so  troublesome  a  charge  ;  and  Don  Carlos  having  no  way  to  render 
the  city  serviceable,  resolved,  if  he  could,  to  prevent  its  ever  more 
becoming  prejudicial  to  his  interests.  In  the  account  Marmol  gives  us  of 
its  ruin  there  are  some  particulars  remarkable  enough.  The  garrison 
was  in  arrears  thirty  one  complete  pays,  (perhaps  months,)  which 
amounted  to  more  than  120,000  ducats :  and  all  that  the  vice-roy  of 
Sicily  could  spare  them  was  no  more  than  27,000,  and  that  not  all  in 
money  either.  With  this  Don  Hernando  de  Acuna,  attended  by  five 
Sicilian  galleys  and  four  large  transports,  arrived  at  Mehedia,  in  order 
to  put  in  execution  what  his  imperial  majesty  had  directed.  He  carried 
with  him  all  the  officers  who  had  been  expelled  the  garrison  when  the 
mutiny  began ;  judging  it  requisite  to  have  their  assistance,  on  all 
occasions;  as  not  being  certain,  whether  the  garrison  would  agree  to 
have  the  city  demolished :  if  not,  it  would  be  proper  that  their  quondam 


276  APPENDIX. 

officers  should  be  left  to  assist  in  its  farthest  defense,  so  that  as  yet 
nothing  was  absolutely  resolved  on.  However,  he  was  better  re 
ceived  than  he  expected.  The  soldiers  flattering  themselves,  that, 
besides  the  general  amnesty,  which,  with  open  mouth  he  proclaim 
ed,  they  should  receive  their  full  arrears.  But  here  he  found  he  had 
occasion  for  all  his  art  and  cunning  to  conceal  from  those  gapers  the 
scantiness  of  his  purse.  The  very  first  step  he  took,  was  to  learn  which 
of  the  soldiers  had  most  authority  among  their  fellows.  Among  these 
he  and  his  officers  privately  distributed  certain  sums.  Next  he  assem 
bled  the  whole  garrison,  representing  to  them  the  emperor's  present 
necessities  for  money,  and  the  considerable  obligation  it  would  be  to 
their  imperial  master,  if  they  answered  his  hopes  and  expectations  in 
bating  him  fifteen  of  their  thirty-one  pays,  and  discount  from  the 
remainder  what  subsistence  they  had  already  received.  Though  this 
set  a  muttering  all  whose  fists  had  not  been  greased ;  yet  those  who 
had  been  paid  for  backing  this  proposal,  being  men  of  too  good  a 
conscience  not  to  earn  their  hire,  stickled  so  powerfully  for  their  neces 
sitated  sovereign,  and  represented  in  such  colors  the  desirable  happi 
ness  and  advantage  of  being  once  more  honored  with  the  title  of  his 
loyal  vassals,  that  the  acquiescement  became  general.  However,  they 
expected  the  residue.  This  point  being  gained,  they  were,  soon  after, 
re-assembled.  Don  Hernando  then  opened  himself  as  to  the  article  of 
demolishing  that  fortress.  Laying  before  them  the  danger,  expense  and 
difficulty  attending  the  keeping  it ;  especially  while  the  naval  force  of 
their  avowed  enemies,  the  French  and  the  Turks,  were  actually  at  sea, 
and  united :  so  that,  even  in  the  ruining  it,  they  must  be  speedy ;  which 
to  do  effectually,  they  had  no  other  way  but  to  set  all  hands  to  work, 
day  and  night,  to  undermine  all  the  walls,  &c.  that  this  dangerous 
bulwark  might  vanish  at  a  blast.  As  to  the  rest,  all  he  could  do,  for 
the  present,  was  to  spare  them  a  ducat  per  man,  till  their  arrival  in 
Sicily,  where  he  promised  them,  upon  his  honor,  the  ultimate  Mara- 
vedi  of  their  demands,  according  to  the  late  agreement.  To  this  they 
likewise  consented ;  and  the  mines  (being  no  less  than  twenty  four 
principal  ones,  to  each  of  which  belonged  several  branches)  were  ready 
in  a  very  few  days ;  such  was  their  diligence  and  assiduity.  All  being 
embarked,  except  an  ensign,  with  two  companies  of  musketeers,  the 


APPENDIX.  277 

galleys  and  ships  put  out  to  sea  at  a  considerable  distance.  The  orders 
left  with  this  trusty  officer  (that  all  the  mines  might  take  fire  at  the 
same  instant ;  and  to  prevent  any  of  them  from  being  choked  up  by 
the  other  neighboring  ruins)  were  these.  At  the  mouth  of  each  mine 
he  posted  a  soldier,  with  a  piece  of  match  of  exactly  the  same  thickness 
and  four  spans  long.  These  sentinels  were  enjoined,  that,  upon  hearing 
a  cannon  fired  from  the  admiral-galley,  they  should  light  their  matches, 
and,  upon  hearing  a  second,  instantly  go  down  to  the  powder,  and  there 
put  the  matches  into  certain  large  canes,  ready  placed  for  that  purpose, 
and  so  disposed  that  just  two  spans  of  the  match  should  be  covered  with 
powder,  and  the  lighted  end,  with  the  other  half  of  it,  might  be  laid 
clear  of  it ;  so  that  the  mines  might  take  fire  all  at  once.  Each  of  these 
soldiers  was  farther  commanded,  that  as  soon  as  he  had  done  as  directed 
he  should  immediately  visit  his  nearest  comrade,  to  examine  whether 
he  had  done  his  duty.  Of  all  this  the  chief  direction  was  intrusted  with 
the  said  ensign,  who  was  charged  to  see  every  thing  duly  executed. 
This  done,  they  all  hasted  away  to  the  boats,  which  attended,  and 
rowed  away  to  the  galleys,  which  lay  a  great  way  out  at  sea,  to  avoid 
the  effects  of  that  terrible  blast.  The  first  that  blew  up  were  those 
in  the  west,  and  they  went  on  firing  regularly  eastward,  and  so 
quite  round  till  the  fire  reached  those  made  across  the  isthmus,  under 
those  stately  walls  and  bulwarks  concerning  which  the  African  writers 
report  that  Al-Mehedi  erected  them  with  such  art  and  strength,  and 
had  his  mind  so  fixed  upon  that  work,  that  he  used  to  say,  "  If  I 
thought  building  these  fortifications  with  iron,  or  brass,  would  render 
them  more  durable,  I  would  certainly  do  it." — "  And  in  an  instant, 
(says  Marmol  expressly,  who  was  present  at  that  expedition,)  such 
and  so  great  was  the  ruin  and  desolation  of  the  walls,  &c.  all  around, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  elements  had  met  together  to  fight  in  that 
place  ;  insomuch  that  in  the  turn  of  an  eye,  this  city,  once  so  beau 
tiful  in  its  situation,  its  walls,  its  towers,  &c.  so  changed  in  form  that 
such  as  had  long  dwelt  there,  when  they  passed  that  way  three 
years  after,  mistook  the  very  place.  Nay,  the  strange  dissimilitude  of 
its  aspect  occasioned  many  great  and  fatal  mistakes  among  mariners." 
The  great  tower  near  the  land  gate  was  left  standing ;  some  of  the 
neighboring  ruins  having  prevented  that  branch  of  the  mine  from 


278  APPENDIX. 

taking  fire.  But  de  Acuna,  resolving  not  to  leave  it,  landed  and  remov 
ed  all  obstacles  ;  so  that  it  presently  fared  as  the  rest  had  done.  Under 
the  ruins  of  the  two  towers  which  guarded  the  port,  were  found  very 
large  marble  pillars,  set  close  together,  upon  which  those  towers  had 
rested,  and  were  there  fixed  to  hinder  the  sea,  in  process  of  time,  from 
wasting  the  foundation:  and  the  floors  under  them  were  all  paved  with 
fine  great  marble  stones.  When  the  Christians  took  that  city,  all  the 
cavaliers  of  note,  who  had  lost  their  lives  at  the  siege,  were  interred  in 
the  principal  mosque.  Their  remains  were  now  taken  up  and  conveyed 
to  the  church  at  Montreal,  near  Palermo,  in  Sicily.  Don  Hernando 
himself  wrote  them  a  pompous  epitaph,  which  is  there  still  to  be  read. 


THE     END. 


RECENTLY    PUBLISHED    BY    G.    P.    PUTNAM, 

155   BROADWAY,   NEW-YORK. 


KALOOLAH; 

OR,  JOURNEYINGS    TO    THE    DJEBEL    KUMRI. 

AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  JONA.  ROMER. 

EDITED     BY 

W.    S.    MAYO,    M.  D. 

I2mo.  cloth,  $1  25  ;  also,  a  cheap  edition,  double  columns,  paper 
covers,  50  cents. 

"  The  most  singular  and  captivating  narrative  since  Robinson  Crusoe."— Home 
Journal. 

"  By  far  the  most  attractive  and  entertaining  book  we  have  read  since  the  days 
we  were  fascinated  by  the  chef  d'ceuvre  of  Defoe,  or  the  graceful  inventions  of 
tne  Arabian  Nights."— -Democratic  Review. 


"  We  have  mentioned  a  recent  publication — Kaloolah — from  the  press  of  Mr.  G. 
Putnam — a  book  in  spirit  and  ability  standing  decidedly  at  the  head  of  its  class, 
and  only  of  too  absorbing  interest,  as  we  can  editorially  testify  from  its  taking 
our  attention  from  everything  else  until,  in  part  of  a  day  and  night,  we  finished 
it.  While  its  influence  on  the  young  may  be  to  awaken,  or  stimulate  too  strongly 
the  love  of  adventure,  it  at  the  same  time  is  adapted  to  call  forth  noble  and  gene 
rous  sentiments,  and  to  show  the  beauty  of  moral  purity. — Christian  Register. 


"  We  have  never  read  a  work  of  fiction  with  more  interest,  and,  we  may  add, 
profit,  combining,  as  it  does,  with  the  most  exciting  and  romantic  adventures,  a 
great  deal  of  information  of  various  kinds,  but  particularly  in  relation  to  geo 
graphical  matters  and  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  African  continent  The 
style  of  the  work  is  picturesque  and  forcible,  the  characters  strongly  marked 


280          NOTICES  OF  BOOKS  BY  DR.  MAYO. 

and  well  drawn,  and  the  interest  kept  up  with  unflagging  vigor  to  the  end.  The 
hero  is  a  young  American,  who,  after  a  variety  of  strange  adventures  in  his  own 
country,  and  at  sea,  is  wrecked  upon  the  desert  of  Sahara — in  time  assumes  the 
garb  and  manners  of  an  Arab,  runs  away  from  his  savage  masters,  and  sets  up 
for  a  Bedouin  himself,  and  afterwards  makes  his  way  through  the  negro  coun 
tries  south  of  the  desert,  to  a  very  curious  nation  inhabiting  that  portion  of  Afri 
ca,  marked  on  the  maps  as  unknown  regions.  The  hero  of  these  adventures, 
Jonathan  Homer,  is  an  admirable  illustration  of  the  highest  American  character 
in  enterprise,  courage,  perseverance,  fertility  of  resource,  inventiveness,  and 
capacity  of  adaptation  to  all  situations.  The  heroine,  Kaloolah,  is  about  as 
charming  and  delicate  a  specimen  of  feminine  nature,  as  we  recollect  in  any 
work  of  imagination  or  fancy — we  will  answer  for  it  that  all  readers  will  be  per 
fectly  delighted  with  her."— Journal  of  Education. 

"  We  have  paid  a  tribute  to  the  powers  of  the  author  of  '  Kaloolah '  that  we 
can  rarely  pay  to  works  of  its  character  and  magnitude,  even  supposing  a  temp 
tation  equally  strong  : — we  have  read  through  its  more  than  five  hundred  pages 
without  omission,  and  with  deep  and  engrossing  interest.  We  have  met  with  no 
modern  work  of  fiction  that  has  so  entranced  us.  We  apprehend  that  we  betray 
no  secret  in  saying  that  Dr.  Mayo  is  not  only  '  responsible  '  as  '  editor,'  but  is  the 
actual  creator  and  author  of  the  work.  He  may  henceforth  claim  a  first  rank 
among  the  world's  writers  of  fiction,  and  America  may  be  proud  to  call  him  her 
son.  The  former  part  of  Kaloolah  carries  the  reader  captive  by  the  same  irre 
sistible  charm  that  is  found  in  the  pages  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  than  which  impe 
rishable  work,  however,  it  presents  a  wider  and  more  varied  field  of  adven 
ture  ;  while  the  latter  part  expands  into  scenes  of  splendor,  magnificence  and 
enchantment,  unsurpassed  by  those  of  the  Arabian  Nights  Entertainments.  This 
we  say  advisedly,  with  the  full  conviction  that  the  intelligent  reader  of  Kaloolah 
will  coincide  with  the  opinion. 

"  The  skill  of  the  pen-artist  is  quite  equal  to  the  exuberance  of  his  imagina 
tion  and  the  abundance  of  his  self-created  materials.  While  Mr.  Homer's  adven 
tures  amaze  us  by  the  rapidity  of  their  occurrence  and  their  increasing  wonder- 
fulness — the  reader  will  pardon  the  coinage  of  a  word — the  equiform  gradation 
of  incident  and  character  is  so  skilfully  maintained  that  no  incongruity  strikes 
the  reader  ;  and  what  would  be  marvellous  if  told  alone,  becomes  probable  and 
is  almost  expected  from  the  course  of  the  narrative.  We  could  readily  suppose 
Mr.  Mayo  to  be  a  well-practiced  and  experienced  author,  so  much  artistic  skill 
and  tact  are  displayed  from  the  starting  point  in  Jonathan's  career  to  his  mar 
riage  with  Kaloolah  in  the  regal  palace  of  the  Framazugda.  Snatches  of  senti 
ment,  always  of  a  manly  and  healthy  tone,  with  occasional  descriptive  and 
ecenic  tints,  are  interwoven  with  the  web  of  the  narrative,  but  never  to  the 
overburdening  of  the  reader's  fancy  or  the  abatement  of  his  awakened  interest. 
Kaloolah  is  indeed  a  pattern  work  of  fiction."— Commercial  Advertiser. 


NOTICES    OF    BOOKS    BY    DR.    MAYO.  281 

"  If  we  are  not  much  mistaken,  Robinson  Crusoe  has  at  last  found  a  successful 
rival  for  universal  popularity.  We  have  never,  since  the  days  of  our  childhood, 
when  we  read  for  the  first  time,  De  Foe's  master  piece,  taken  up  a  work  so  filled 
with  interesting  incidents  and  adventures  as  this.  It  is  really  one  of  the  most 
bewitching  books  of  the  day.  Take  '  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast,'  '  Typee,'  and 
'  Robinson  Crusoe,'  combine  their  excellences  and  make  up  therefrom  one  nar 
rative,  and  you  can  obtain  some  idea  of  the  character  of  '  Kaloolah.'  " — Cambridge 
Chronicle. 


"The  crack  book  of  the  season  ;  the  author  has  displayed  consummate  skill  in 
weaving  up  the  incidents  of  his  story,  and  has  contrived  to  give  great  vivacity 
and  piquancy  to  both  his  narrative  and  his  dialogue." — Washington  Union. 


•'  Well  written,  and  full  of  life  and  animation."  —Baltimore  Patriot. 
"  Five  hundred  more  lively  pages,  we  have  seldom  read." — Albion. 


"  We  have  read  every  word  of  these  fascinating  pages  with  more  interest  than 
we  are  willing  to  confess.  It  is  one  of  the  very  best  books  of  the  kind  ever 
Written." — Evening  Mirror. 

"  No  one  can  read  it  without  the  delightful  sense  of  gratification  which  it  is 
the  province  of  new  genius  alone  to  minister. 

"  It  is  decidedly  the  novel  of  the  season,  and  of  seasons  yet  to  come." — Con 
cord  Journal. 

"  Full  of  stirring  incidents  and  startling  transactions,  and  the  author  displays 
no  mean  power  in  describing  character  and  scenery." — London  Morning  Herald. 


THE  BERBER; 

OR,  THE  MOUNTAINEER  OF  THE  ATLAS. 

A  TALE  OF  MOROCCO, 
BY 

W.    S.    MAYO,    M.D. 

AUTHOR    OF    "KALOOLAH." 


"  Dr.  Mayo's  new  work,  we  incline  to  think,  is  artistically  superior  to  Kaloo- 
lah,  from  which,  however,  it  differs  in  plot  and  scene.  We  were  proud  of  Dr. 
Mayo's  first  work  •„  his  second,  we  believe,  will  insure  him  even  a  higher  reputa 
tion." — Commercial  Advertiser. 


"  Dr.  Mayo's  new  work  has  astonished  us.  It  is  an  advance  on  his  '  Kaloo- 
lah,'  showing  far  greater  resources  of  imagination  than  were  evinced  in  his  pre 
vious  work.  It  is  the  book  of  the  season." — Newark  Advertiser, 


"  The  rapidity  with  which  two  large  editions  of  this  truly  indigenous  Ameri 
can  novel  has  been  disposed  of  rnay  be  taken  as  a  proof  of  its  adaptation  to  the 
popular  mind,  if  not  as  a  test  of  its  actual  artistic  merits.  Like  its  fascinating 
predecessor,  the  original  and  inimitable  '  Adventures  of  Jonathan  Romer,'  it  is 
constructed  on  no  foreign  model  of  literary  excellence  ;  its  beauties  and  its  de 
fects  are  all  its  own  ;  no  devotee  of  fashion  in  -the  sphere  of  intellect  is  the  au 
thor  ;  his  mind  is  peculiarly  free  from  the  vice  of  idolatry  in  any  shape ;  and 
without  inquiring  how  far  he  conforms  to  any  arbitrary  standards  of  the  past, 
he  draws  generously  on  his  own  vigorous  and  creative  imagination  both  for  the 
materials  and  the  construction  of  his  romance.  Hence  the  freshness,  the  rapid 
movement,  the  glowing  vitality,  which  pei-vade  his  narrative.  '  The  Berber,'  it 
is  true,  is  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  greater  retenue  than  the  author's  previous 
novel :  its  tone  is  far  more  chaste  and  subdued  ;  the  incidents  are  more  in  har 
mony  with  the  general  laws  of  historical  perspective.  But  compared  with  the 
great  majority  of  popular  fictions,  it  palpitates  with  a  deep,  rich  life,  and  can 
never  be  mistaken  for  a  spectre,  a  mummy,  or  a  marble  statue.  The  plot  of  this 
novel,  though  somewhat  perplexed,  is  developed  with  great  skill ;  the  different 
interests  of  the  story  are  admirably  blended  ;  and  the  numerous  cross  thread* 


NOTICES    OF    BOOKS    BY    DR.    MAYO.  283 

delicately  taken  up  and  woven  into  the  composite  tissue  of  the  piece  with  a  dex 
terity  that  leads  you  to  trust  the  author  in  all  those  critical  emergencies  of  the 
narrative  which  are  such  terrible  trials  of  the  ingenuity  of  the  writer  and  the 
good  nature  of  the  reader. 

But  the  genius  of  Dr.  Mayo  is  nowhere  displayed  to  greater  advantage  than  in 
his  vivid  and  truthful  representations  of  the  most  subtle  lights  and  shades  of 
passion,  and  the  distinctive  individuality  which  he  is  thus  enabled  to  give  to  the 
prominent  figures  on  his  canvass.  They  always  preserve  their  identity,  showing 
a  singular  artistic  consistency,  impressing  you  with  their  characteristic  presence, 
and  this,  without  any  glaring  mark  of  designation,  just  as  you  recognize  the  fea 
tures  or  hand-writing  of  a  friend  at  sight,  without  reflection  or  analysis. 

The  external  incidents  of  the  '  Berber '  are  managed  with  a  good  deal  of  adroit 
ness,  presenting  a  lively  picture  of  the  customs  and  manners  of  a  singular  people) 
so  that  while  intently  pursuing  the  thread  of  the  story,  you  are  beguiled  into  the 
possession  of  a  fund  of  geographical  and  historical  lore  which  was  not  set  down 
in  the  programme." — Tribune. 

"  Since  the  earlier  works  of  Cooper,  there  has  not  issued  from  the  American 
poet  any  work  of  fiction  so  interesting  and  so  valuable  as  this  same  Kaloolah. 
It  combines  all  those  ingredients  which  are  necessary  to  secure  it  permanency 
and  a  high  consideration.  Among  the  very  many  journals  whose  critical  notices 
are  to  be  relied  upon,  we  have  noticed  but  one  opinion.  It  is  universally  com 
mended.  It  abounds  in  incident,  in  narrative,  in  character  :  and  through  all  is 
maintained  a  propriety  and  connexion  which  never  misleads  or  betrays.  We 
are  reminded  of  those  old  dramatists  and  novelists  whose  works  are  now  stan 
dards.  It  is  decidedly  the  novel  of  the  season  and  of  seasons  yet  to  come." — Con 
cord  Journal. 

"  So  clever  a  book  was  •  Kaloolah,'  by  which  the  author  of  this  work  intro 
duced  himself  to  the  reading  public,  that  we  feared  he  might  prove  to  be  of  that 
class  who  exhaust  themselves  by  a  single  effort.  We  are  very  glad  to  find  that 
this  is  not  the  case,  and  that  his  second  composition  will  but  confirm  him  in  the 
high  place  he  has  already  taken.  His  work  is  good,  fresh,  lively  and  instructive. 
It  will  be  more  generally  popular  than  '  Kaloolah.'  " — Albion. 

11  BERBER. — The  story  is  more  than  agreeable — it  is  thrilling  and  exciting — 
and  it  is  related  with  much  skill  and  effect.  The  reader  who  takes  up  the  book 
will  be  disinclined  to  lay  down  the  book,  till  he  has  seen  the  end  of  it  The 
characters  are  skilfully  drawn  and  well  sustained." — Drawing-room  Journal. 

"  Nobody  knows  better  than  Dr.  Mayo  what  constitutes  a  good  story  :  he  is 


284         NOTICES  OF  WORKS  BY  DR.  MAYO. 

evidently  one  of  the  moat  practical  of  all  novelists.  By  starting  at  full  speed,  and 
never  letting  up,  the  author  manages  to  carry  the  story  through  in  dashing  style, 
and  to  the  admiration  of  his  readers.  The  book  is  a  much  severer  test  of  hia 
powers  than  Kaloolah ;  the  Berber  is  a  double  triumph.  Its  incidents  are  what 
make  it  so  interesting,  and  give  its  true  character  as  an  original  book.  In  point 
of  plot,  the  Berber  reminds  us  of  the  story  of  Don  Raphael  in  Gil  Bias.  The 
work  must  have  a  run.  It  is  more  generally  entertaining  than  Kaloolah,  and 
cannot  fail  of  as  many  readers  at  least  as  that  popular  story." — Lit.  World. 

"  A  romance  of  the  highest  class,  replete  with  character,  plot,  and  incident, 
and  occupying  ground  entirely  new."— Home  Journal. 


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